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‘‘The sailor drew his sheath knife and let drive 


viciously ’ ’ 


[Page 24] 



The 

YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


By 

WILLIAM O. STEVENS 
and McKEE BARCLAY 



ILLUSTRATED 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 


1910 


Copyright, 1910, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Published September, 1910 



©GI,A27!849 


DEDICATED TO 


THEODORE ROOSEVELT 

WHO HAS DONE SO MUCH TO INSPIRE 
THE PATRIOTIC AMERICAN BOY 



FOREWORD 


As no red-blooded boy wastes his time reading 
prefaces, this is written for the eye of the grown-up 
who looks at this book and wonders what it is all 
about. To him we would say that “ The Young Pri- 
vateersman ” contains actual American history; and 
not only that, but history that is wholly unknown to 
most Americans. The privateers Cornet^ General 
Armstrong, and Chasseur were real ships; Captains 
Barney, Boyle, Reid, Dr. McGrath, and Mr. Dab- 
ney were real men; Dartmoor prison was a real 
prison, and the wonderful fights off Pernambuco and 
at Fayal were matters of fact. If the escape of Miles 
Gadsden from Dartmoor prison seems improbable, it 
can be said that one young American escaped exactly 
as described; and though the odds in the battles off 
Pernambuco or Fayal may seem fanciful, nevertheless 
they are a matter of printed record. In the case of 
the latter engagement, for example, we followed the 


FOREWORD 


reports of Captain Reid himself, supplemented by 
the later testimony of Portuguese officials, and the 
account written by our consul at Fayal, Mr. Dab- 
ney, who was an eyewitness. The gallantry and the 
invaluable service of certain privateersmen in the 
War of 1812 are facts that have been overlooked, 
and these facts “ The Young Privateersman 
would bring to the mind of every American boy who 
honors courage in defense of the flag. 

The Authors. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Looking for a Berth ..... i 

II. — Aboard the Privateer . . . .14 

III. — Running the Blockade .... 30 

IV. — Seamanship and Sword Play ... 44 

V. — Sighting the Enemy ..... 63 

VI. — Clear Ship for Action! .... 77 

VII. — Todd Spins a Yarn . . . . .91 

VIII. — Miles’s First Command .... 107 

IX. — A Prisoner of War . . . . .124 

X. — In an English Prison Pen . . . .137 

XI. — Planning an Escape . . . . .156 

XII. — Across the Moors . . . . .164 

XIII. — On Board the Dutch Brig . . .179 

XIV, — A Captive Again . . . . .190 

XV. — Bad News for Miles ..... 203 

XVI. — Among Friends . . . . . ,216 

XVII. — A Desperate Defense . . . . .228 

XVIII. — Defeat with Honor . . . . .241 

XIX. — Surprising Encounters . . . .253 

XX. — Miles Settles a Score .... 267 

XXL — Hiding in the Hills . . . . .278 

XXII. — Familiar Faces , . . . . .291 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


** The sailor drew his sheath knife and let 
viciously ” 


FACING 

PAGE 


drive 

Frontispiece 


“He went down slowly from knot to knot” . . 162 

“ Williams collapsed, and fell into the arms of a little 

powder monkey” ...... 238^ 


“ He sprang up under Carringford’s guard and thrust for 

the shoulder” ....... 276^ 



THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


CHAPTER I 

LOOKING FOR A BERTH 

D uring the dosing weeks of the year 1812 
Baltimore presented an interesting picture. 
Soldiers and man-o’-warsmen thronged her streets 
and wharves, and her taverns were ringing with the 
shouts and laughter of boisterous privateersmen who 
were lavishly scattering their easy-come-easy-go prize 
money. These roystering sea-fighters were looked 
upon with easy tolerance by the merchants of the 
city, for besides being their country’s gallant defend- 
ers they were liberal spenders of the prize money. 
For this reason, especially, they were welcomed by 
the shopkeepers, and their horse-play was tolerated 
in the taverns; but In the residence districts, when 
they hove In sight, peace-loving, respectable Balti- 
moreans closed their shutters and retired indoors. 

One crisp afternoon, a week before Christmas, 
a guest of the Three Tuns Tavern, a well-dressed 
lad of seventeen, stood on the Paca Street side of the 

I 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


inn listening to a noisy argument between two sea- 
faring vagabonds as to the relative merits of their 
favorite privateers, the Grampus and the Dolphin, 
Suddenly his attention was attracted by roars of 
laughter and excited shouts from behind the high 
board fence that shut the little back yard away from 
the street. He turned from the disputants, saw 
through the gateway the aproned figure of the tav- 
ern keeper, old Rudolph Van den Berg, bouncing 
comically about in a vain endeavor to get a look 
through the knot of howling men that surged 
around the inclosure. 

The youth elbowed into the crowd, his first 
glimpse disclosing a one-legged man who was nimbly 
hopping about as he flourished an inflated bladder 
tied to the end of a stick with which he was belabor- 
ing another man similarly armed. The second 
bladder-wielder proved also to be minus one mem- 
ber, his left arm being replaced by an iron hook 
which stuck out a few inches from a sleeve that 
flapped loosely as he danced about, dodging the 
blows of his enemy and whacking back in return. 
The two duelists wore paper foolscaps for helmets, 
which each tried to guard with his free arm — or 
hook, as it was in the case of one. 

“ My hat against a dollar that Pegleg unhats 


2 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


him ! ” screamed a black-bearded little Spaniard as 
he backed away to give the contestants full play. 

“ I takes yo\ ” shouted a gigantic negro, clink- 
ing a silver dollar on the pavement under the feet of 
the two combatants. Distracted for an instant by 
the sight of the coin, the one-legged man lowered 
his guard, when “ twack ” came a blow that knocked 
his helmet from his head, a shapeless crumple of 
paper. The negro dived for the dollar, and quickly 
confronted the proposer of the bet with “ Gimme dat 
hat I ” Without a protest the other handdd over his 
weather-beaten cocked hat and joined the crowd that 
rushed to the tavern bar to drink at the expense of 
the loser of the battle. 

Meanwhile the youth, who had arrived just in 
time to see the finish of the duel, sought out the 
negro. 

“ Betting again, Herk? ” 

With a comically crestfallen look the black giant 
answered hesitatingly, “ I jes’ couldn’ he’p it, Marse 
Miles. It was dat Spanish monkey wanted to bet 
on de wooden-legged sailor man. I won’t do it 
ag’in, ’pon my soul I won’t.” 

“ Well, let it pass,” laughed his young master, 
“ but did you hear anything from Captain Barney, 
while I was away? ” 


3 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Naw, sah, ain’t hyeard nuthin’ — Lawdy, look 
yander I ” exclaimed the darky, pointing up the 
street. 

Approaching at a lively singlefoot was a little 
roan mare ridden by a burly red-faced sailor who sat 
all askew in a pretended attempt to steer the nag 
around the corner by swinging her tail as a rudder. 
In his left hand he carried a small boat anchor with 
a coil of rope attached to his saddle. 

“ She don’t mind her helium worth a tin rupee! ” 
he shouted as he let go the tail and hauled on the 
reins, bringing his steed up with a flourish to the curb 
where the two interested spectators stood. Drawing 
up to Herk the rider threw the rein over his horse’s 
head and roared, “ Bear a hand there and make her 
fast I ” at the same time shying his anchor at the 
hitching post. 

The innkeeper, attracted by the commotion, ap- 
peared at the door just as the sailor, who had dis- 
mounted, was burying a prong of his anchor in a 
joint of the curbing. “Ahoy there, mine hostl’^ 
roared the tar. “ Do you know aught of one Miles 
Gadsden, you poison-selling swab? ” 

“ Dis yere is Marse Miles,” put in the negro, 
indicating his companion with a wave of his newly 
won hat. 


4 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


Removing his own head-covering of varnished oil- 
cloth, the sailor fished from it a letter and presented 
it to the young man, with a great flourish, saying: 
“With Captain Barney’s compliments, sir! ” 

When the lad had run through the contents, he 
said hastily, “Get our kits, Herk; we’re going to 
leave.” 

Ten minutes later the two were trudging east- 
ward in the direction df the shipping district. The 
negro was such a striking figure that passersby 
turned and stared. He was coal-black, standing 
about six feet four, broad in proportion, with large 
brass rings in his ears; and as he walked he made 
a curious, low humming noise through his lips. 
Though smaller in volume, it was similar in a way to 
what might be expected from a miniature horn, 
though it ran up and down the scale like an ^Eolian 
harp. 

Though his master. Miles' Gadsden, looked 
dwarfed by his side, he was in reality' a cleanly built, 
strong young fellow of seventeen, with a fresh color 
and light yellowish hair that made the contrast with 
his inky companion all the more striking. He had 
come the day before from his home in Annapolis to 
meet, by appointment, his father’s friend. Captain 
Joshua Barney, a famous sea-fighter of the Revolu- 
'2 5 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


tionary War, whose recently ended cruise in the pri- 
vateer Rossie was still the talk of the town. With 
Barney’s backing he had tried to get a midshipman’s 
warrant in the navy, but to his intense chagrin had 
failed. Captain Barney had written him that, as a 
consolation prize, he thought he could secure for him 
a berth on the privateer Cornet^ which had just re- 
turned from a cruise that rivaled the success of the 
Rossie. 

So it was that after days of being in the dumps 
over his disappointment. Miles set out for Baltimore 
with his body-servant “ Herk ” — to meet Captain 
Barney. Herk, too, had been promised a berth be- 
low decks on the Comet and was jubilant over the 
prospect of seeing the world beside his beloved 
young master. To the darky, the sight and sounds 
of a city street were as wonderful as a foreign land. 
As the two passed down the street, Herk would stop 
every now and then to stare open-mouthed at the 
gorgeous yellow stagecoaches, or the big Conestoga 
wagons from the West, with their long, blue, flat- 
boat-shaped bodies and white canvas tops, and their 
eight-horse teams jingling with clusters of bells. A 
sale at the old slave market, the busy scenes at the 
tobacco warehouses, furnished temptations to loiter, 
but finally they reached the “ Basin,” or inner har- 
6 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


bor, and found themselves among the busy scenes of 
the water front. 

When they rounded the cave that makes in under 
Federal Hill, they came upon a knot of privateers- 
men skylarking like so many schoolboys. Evi- 
dently, part of the captured cargoes had consisted of 
dainty merchandise, for some of these strapping fel- 
lows had wound themselves up in yards upon yards 
of many-colored silks and were brandishing parasols 
in both hands. Another group amused themselves 
by worrying several drovers who were unloading cat- 
tle and forcing them along the runway on the wharf. 
One maudlin sailor lurched up to the gangway, 
threw his arms around the neck of a cow, kissed her 
on the nose and crammed a banknote into her mouth. 
Turning to Herk as the latter followed his young 
companion around the corner, he called out with a 
silly leer, “ I’ll give her a good cud to chew on. Come 
here. Sambo ! Buss her on the snoot for luck.” The 
crowd guffawed, but, disdaining to answer, the black 
giant followed his master in and out among the boxes 
of merchandise that littered the wharf. 

They passed around the edge of the fort that 
overlooked the harbor, and Herk noticed that Miles 
began to look anxiously in all directions. He was 
about to ask if they were at their journey’s end when 
7 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


there was a hail from a bug-eye that swung at the 
stern of a three-masted schooner. There, waving at 
them a wide-brimmed beaver hat, sat a thickset man 
wearing a blue coat, black stock and ruffled shirt. 
He had a military air that could not be concealed by 
his civilian dress. 

“This way,” he called; “jump aboard the 
schooner. Miles, and I’ll send a dinghy over to you.” 

Clambering over to the deck of the schooner, 
Miles and Herk made their way aft just as a skiff 
was pushed across to them. The bug-eye had evi- 
dently been held for their coming, for no sooner were 
they aboard and hurried greetings exchanged than 
her canvas was spread and she swung to midstream. 

“ When did you get in town. Miles? ” asked the 
older man as they headed down the harbor toward 
Fort McHenry. 

“ Three days ago, sir.” 

“ Well, I’m sorry you didn’t hear from me 
sooner, but the delay was unavoidable. For the last 
fortnight I have been delayed in Philadelphia, where 
I had to go to settle with one of the owners of the 
Rossie, If I were only reshipping in her, lad. I’d be 
delighted to take you aboard, but you know I am to 
leave salt water and stay quietly at home for a while. 
Mistress Barney is far from well and needs me more 
8 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


than my country does. By the way, what news from 
home and what of your father? ” 

“ Why, mother sent her kind regards and told 
me to ask you if you and Mrs. Barney can give her a 
visit. She’s rather cut up about by my going to war, 

especially since father ” 

“ Lord love us, no bad news I hope? ” cried Cap- 
tain Barney anxiously. 

“ Well, not as bad as it might be,” replied Miles, 
“ but father’s ship, the Eagle, had the ill luck to be 
overhauled by a frigate early last month and he’s 
now a prisoner. The Eaglets owners got word from 
London last week, and they sent a letter to mother 
saying that as the vessel had been taken without re- 
sistance, father must be unhurt and merely waiting 
exchange or release on parole.” 

“ Too bad, too bad; but it might be worse, as you 
say. And I was just thinking what a pity you didn’t 
ship with your father last summer, as long as the 
midshipman business fell through. It’s well now 
you didn’t. I suppose you got my letter about that 
unlucky business? ” 

“Yes, sir, but ” 

“ Oh, well, I know you were disappointed, lad, and 
so was I. Commissions in the navy somehow run 
nowadays only to families with influence and wealth. 
9 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


I thought the name of Joshua Barney would have 
enough weight, but times have changed.” The good- 
humored face darkened. “ You see,” he explained, 
“ when I refused to be rated below Si. Talbot in the 
captain's list and resigned to accept a captaincy in 
the French navy, the department got plaguey sore 
on me — confound ’em for a set of white-livered 
lawyers ! ” 

“ But your last letter,” ventured Miles after a 
pause, “ said I might ship on the Comet. Did you 
succeed with Captain Boyle? Everyone says that 
he is second to none but Captain Barney.” 

The older man beamed again as he said: “ Ha, 
then there are some who haven’t forgotten me, eh? ” 

“ Forgotten you ? Why, they say your last cruise 
was the most successful made since war was declared 
last June ! ” 

“ That’s no more than the truth. I have been 
in Philadelphia over a month now going over the 
account with the other owners and we find that the 
Rossie captured 3,700 tons of shipping, which we 
estimate to be worth fully a million and a half. But 
now as to your prospects, my lad. Captain Boyle is a 
man who has to be handled by some one who knows 
his quirks, and if I do say it myself, no one knows 
him better than I. He was as gruff as a sore-headed 


10 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


bear when I mentioned what I wanted for you and 
told me shortly that he had all the seamen he wanted, 
some officers to spare, and didn’t hanker for passen- 
gers. I smoothed him and wheedled him, and 
though I didn’t get a definite promise I’ll warrant 
you will be signing the articles on the Comet within 
an hour. There she lies now, past the stern of that 
four-master.” 

Miles looked, eagerly following the direction of 
Captain Barney’s finger, and saw a large topsail 
schooner with two raking masts and with lines as 
sharp as any racing craft. He saw, as they drew 
nearer, two large guns — “ long-toms,” as they were 
called — mounted amidships on swivels, so that they 
could be trained with either broadside. The bul- 
warks also were cut for five gun parts on a side. 

She had docked a short distance north of Fort 
McHenry at a long, rather flimsy-looking wharf and, 
as the bug-eye swung in almost under her stern. Miles 
studied the scene with interest. There was an Inces- 
sant din of rattling trucks and creaking windlasses, 
out of which came the sharp staccato notes of the 
mates’ voices, as they urged the sweating stevedores 
to their tasks. A procession of heavily laden negro 
longshoremen streamed up the gangplank, seemingly 
In Imminent danger of being knocked overboard by 


II 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


others, some of whom were pushing trucks within an 
inch of the burden bearers, while others, empty- 
handed, hurried toward a boatswain’s mate, who 
frantically urged them to greater speed with dire 
threats and much profanity. As the mate saw Cap- 
tain Barney’s little craft swing into the wharf, his 
hand went to his hat in quick salute and the swearing 
broke off in the middle. “ How are you. Captain 
Barney? Are you going to help us clear the sea of 
the British? ” he said, while the negroes stopped to 
gaze open-mouthed at the name of the man whose 
fame was known to all of them. 

“ No,” answered Barney as he walked by, “ I’m 
marooned for the present, but it will not be long be- 
fore I’m off again, I suppose.” 

The mate touched his hat and, instantly, as he 
caught sight of the gaping negroes, bawled savagely : 
“ Why, dang my grandmother’s half-sister’s tortoise- 
shell cat, what the blazes are you tar-faced monkeys 
standin’ there fer, with your eyes popped out like a 
bunch o’ poisoned rats when — bear a hand there, or 
I’ll cut a half a hogshead o’ blood out o’ your backs. 


The rest of the mate’s exhortation was lost to 
Miles as he and Barney drew nearer to the rumbling 
trucks. The young man noticed that others of the 


12 


LOOKING FOR A BERTH 


boatswain’s mates recognized Captain Barney, and 
their very evident admiration and respect for his 
friend made him feel that he was shining in reflected 
glory, so that he followed his sponsor up the forward 
gangplank to the Comeths spar deck with considerable 
self-complacency. 

“ Ah, there’s your skipper. Miles ! ” exclaimed 
Captain Barney. 

Standing by the capstan. Miles saw a big-framed, 
bull-necked Irishman, with piercing gray eyes under 
black brows, roaring orders through a wide mouth, 
round which the shorn beard showed blue-black un- 
der his skin. His sturdy thick legs were planted 
apart, his arms were akimbo, and the scowl on his 
face showed him to be in anything but a pleasant 
humor. 


CHAPTER II 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


NFORTUNATELY, the delayed arrival of 



some barrels of potatoes had put him out of 
humor, and at the moment of Miles’s arrival on board 
the Comet he was fairly spluttering with temper. 
His reply to Captain Barney’s greeting was almost 
churlish, but the latter affected not to notice any 
slight. With a significant wink at Miles, he said, 
“Boyle, here’s this friend of mine. Miles Gadsden; 
I want you to make him a fine seaman and a hard 
fighter and, egad, no one can do it so well as you.” 

Boyle turned unceremoniously to bawl an order 
at the mates who were driving the longshoremen at 
their loading, and Barney took the instant to grasp 
the boy’s hand and say, “ Good-by and good luck, 
lad; I’ll keep my eye on you.” 

Then, turning to Boyle, he added, “ There he 
is,” with a wave of the hand toward Miles; “ I leave 
him with you.” 


14 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


“Well, leave him then! ” snorted Boyle. 

“ If you don’t want him, throw him overboard, 
you bog-trotting, burgoo-swilling Irishman I ” an- 
swered Barney, and he chuckled as he turned on his 
heel. 

Miles thought that he saw an encouraging 
twinkle in the testy Hibernian’s eye, in spite of the 
gruff voice that said, “ Take your black dwarf and 
get below 1 We need all the deck room we can get. 
Find the bos’n 1 ” 

He turned to obey; Herk picked up the boxes 
that contained their modest outfits and followed him 
to the ladder. 

At the foot of the ladder Miles almost collided 
with some one whose outlines he could barely distin- 
guish in the semi-darkness. 

“ Hard a-port, sonny, or you’ll foul me! ” roared 
a voice; “what’s this three-decker you’re a-con- 
voyin’ ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon,” answered Miles. “ Just 
coming out of the light, I couldn’t see you.” 

“ Blame’s on me, sir ! Why, it’s Mr. Gadsden ; 
I seen you talkin’ to the skipper.” 

“ Yes, and this is Hercules. Neither of us has 
been assigned to duty, but Captain Boyle says the 
boatswain will find us temporary quarters.” 

15 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“Well, Pm him — which is to say, the bos’n; an’ 
I make bold to say it hain’t no trouble to figger what 
to do with you, Mr. Gadsden, but I’m afeared we’ll 
have to let what’s-his-name — er — Goliath ” 

“ Hercules,” prompted Miles. 

“ Yes, Herkumlees, he’ll have to hang his 
feet out the hawse holes, bein’ how’s the Comet 
hain’t more’n two or three hundred foot beam.” 

“ Don’t worry about Herk,” laughed Miles; 
“ he’ll fold up like a jackknife and fit in anywhere.” 

“ Well, foller me with your kit; the skipper says 
you’ll have to stow yerself the best you kin here with 
us. We’ve got more’n a full complement ’tween 
decks as ’tis now.” 

With this, the boatswain led the way through a 
dark, stuffy passage into the steerage where by the 
light of a swinging lantern Miles got a good look at 
his guide. The old tar had removed his oilcloth 
hat, and as he pointed out the small sea chest and 
hammock that had been assigned to the boy, his stiff 
iron-gray hair stood up in a bristly pompadour, 
which, combined with his curiously elevated eye- 
brows, gave to the weather-beaten face an expression 
of comical astonishment. Back of the lattice-work 
of deep furrows that seamed his neck hung a tarry 
queue with a funny outward turn at the end. He 
i6 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


wore the short side-whiskers so generally affected by 
seamen of the period, and the upper half of one of 
his ears was missing. This suggested to the boy a 
future narration of exciting adventures — perhaps a 
desperate hand-to-hand encounter. Miles noticed 
that, although the boatswain was evidently near- 
ing three-score, his eyes were keen, his teeth strong, 
and his movements quick with the energy of a 
man thirty years younger. A distended cheek and 
a trickle of amber liquid following the wrinkles 
at the corners of his mouth showed that he 
took his tobacco “ like a Christian,” as the say- 
ing went among the older seamen who despised 
smoking as effeminate. As the old fellow turned 
to speak to Herk, his voice changed from the 
kindly tone he had adopted toward Miles, and he 
bawled in a deep bass, “ Hard a-lee, Sambo, foller in 
my wake; your billet’s forrard with the cook. Wait 
till I move this African ship-of-the-line, Mr. Gads- 
den, an’ I’ll come back with the skipper’s orders.” 
With this last sample of nautical talk, which Miles 
found later was one of the old fellow’s pet affecta- 
tions, he disappeared with the negro. 

Herk had left, grimacing and grinning like a 
Cheshire cat, and his good humor at the prospect of 
a scullion’s duties in the galley shamed Miles Into 
^ 7 . 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


trying to take his own medicine like a man. “ The 
idea of a gentleman herding with petty officers in a 
pen like this,” he thought half aloud. Even as he 
bent his head he barely missed the beams above, and 
three strides took him across the widest dimension 
of the room. The air was foul and permeated with 
the horrible odor of the “ bilge ” water in the hold. 
The timbers were moldy with dampness and, even as 
he stood looking about him, a huge rat scurried into 
a corner. As the boy remembered his former dreams 
of rank and glory in the navy, he felt miserably 
homesick and lonely. There was a moistening of 
the eye and a quiver of the lip that made him wel- 
come the return of the friendly boatswain. 

“ Now, Mr. Gadsden, what d’ye know about a 
ship? ” asked the old man, as he cut a generous chew 
of “ Maryland niggerhead ” and stowed it in his 
cheek. 

“ Well, I know something about small schooners, 
droggers, and the like, but my knowledge of fighting 
ships isn’t great. To tell the truth, Mr. Todd ” 

“Just plain Todd, lad! It’s a good, easy, con- 
venient coganomin ter handle. So ye have had 
enough real hard work to be part of a sailor, any- 
how?” 

“ Yes,” said Miles, “ but I realize that I have a 

i8 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


lot to learn about handling sails, especially square 
sails, and I hope you’ll see to it that I know enough 
not to be ashamed to have Captain Boyle about when 
I’m on duty.” 

“ To be sure ! I’ll warrant you there won’t be a 
bolder, smarter seaman on the Comet in a fortnight’s 
time,” answered the old fellow heartily. “ I’ll be 
glad to larn you all alow and aloft. So far so 
good. Now, fust, your station is on the lee side of 
the quarter deck, in the main, and you’ll have to git 
spry furlin’ light sails, when the watch is called to 
shorten canvas. Fact is, a lot’ll depend on what you 
amount to, as to how you’ll fare under Cap’n Boyle, 
lad. Of course ther ain’t no midshipmen aboard a 
privateer like what there is on a reel reg’lar navy 
vessel. Now, when I wuz on the Richard with Cap- 
tain Jones there was a little middy that ” 

“ Did you serve with Paul Jones? ” asked Miles, 
awe-struck at the thought of being in the presence of 
a real hero. 

“Wot! Didn’t Cap’n Barney tell you? ‘Did 
I serve with Cap’n Jones?’ Why, bless my soul, 
d’ye think I belong on a bilgy privateer along wi’ a 
lot o’ lousy sons o’ double Dutchmen like this yere 
lot o’ rapscallions in the fo’c’s’le for messmates! 
Why, shiver my timbers! I’ll take my davy John 

19 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Paul Jones’d turn over in his grave if he only knowed 
Bill Todd was makin’ a v’yage in a — but I beg your 
parding, lad; you didn’t know you wuz foulin’ my 
hawse.” 

“ Why, I’m sure Mr. — eh, I mean Todd, I didn’t 
know, really, and I must beg your pardon, not you 
beg mine,” quickly answered Miles, for he saw that 
the old man’s record as a Revolutionary War fighter 
was a sacred hobby with him and he was anxious to 
cater to what he considered a very pardonable weak- 
ness. 

“ Well,” said the boatswain, somewhat mollified 
by Miles’s show of respect, “ I’ll stow that, but it 
sartin rubs me wrong for a lot o’ derned swabs to 
put ’emselves ekal with a man what fit with Paul 
Jones on a real man-o’-war.” He spat mournfully, 
but with deadly precision, at a swiftly gliding cock- 
roach, which waded out laboriously and took refuge 
under a coil of rope. “ The only reason I ship in a 
privateer,” the old fellow continued, “ is because 
Cap’n Boyle fights more like Paul Jones than any 
man I ever see, an’ runs this ship in a strictly man-o’- 
war style, too. Nothin’ goes here that ain’t ac- 
cordin’ to regalations. There’s more money in pri- 
vateerin’,” he added with a shrewd wink. 

“ Well, as I was a-sayin’,” he resumed after a 


20 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


thoughtful chew, “ there ain’t no midshipmen here, 
but that’s about wot you’ll be. You’ll do wot the 
cap’n and the first luff orders ye to do, w’ich’ll be 
about ten thousand different things the fust week.” 
This observation was delivered with a sage and 
knowing wink, and a dexterous movement of the 
tongue that shifted a huge quid from one cheek to 
the other while the old fellow squinted into the dark 
corners of the steerage, evidently in the hope that 
another unwary cockroach might venture into the 
open. Seeing none, he expectorated aimlessly and 
resumed his lecture. 

“ Keep yer eyes skinned and yer ears open to 
I’arn the ship. Don’t sleep on watch an’ don’t mind 
a rough word or two.” 

“ Thank you. I’ll do my best,” said Miles. 

“ That’s the talk, lad,” was the answer; “ you’ve 
got the making of a Jones or a Barney in ye, an’ 
bein’ as you’re lucky enough ter have some one wot 
knows the ropes of a real fightin’ ship fer a pedagog 
at the start, I don’t doubt but ye’ll give a good ac- 
count o’ yerself. I’ll be slippin’ my anchor now, ’cos 
I must get on deck. Mind the things I’ve told you 
and be alert an’ willin’.” 

With this advice the old fellow disappeared, 
leaving Miles to stow his kit as shipshape as pos- 


3 


21 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


sible in the corner that he was to occupy during the 
cruise. This done, he hastened to the deck, as the 
foulness between decks made him long for a deep 
breath of fresh air. 

As he found Captain Boyle too busy to notice 
him. Miles took a seat on a convenient gunslide 
where he could watch the scene of hurried prepara- 
tion for sailing. 

Huge, black stevedores were trundling wheel- 
barrows laden with boxes, crates and barrels up the 
gangplank and unloading them at the forward hold, 
where a large number of the Comeths crew were busy 
stowing the goods as fast as they arrived. Over the 
clatter and banging of the wheelbarrows rose the 
shouts of the foreman on the dock and the howling 
orders of Captain Boyle and his officers. Other 
groups of men were busy in scattered parts of the 
ship’s rigging, reefing the running gear, seizing the 
chafing mats, or getting the square-sail yards to their 
caps. Miles was interested in the last point, espe- 
cially, for he had not realized how completely the 
“ schooner ” privateers of the time were equipped to 
shift from a fore-and-aft rig to square sails. 

Tiring of the scene finally, his idle gaze wan- 
dered, but his attention was suddenly attracted by an 
odd personage who was threading his way through 


22 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


the scattered lumber and junk of the shipyard next to 
the wharf where the Comet lay. The obstructions 
would have made walking difficult for the ordinary 
individual, but Miles was interested to notice that the 
newcomer was not only crippled, but had added to 
his own awkwardness of locomotion by indulging 
liberally in spirits. He was following a tortuous 
route, but seemed to have enough idea of his destina- 
tion to steer true, in spite of his involuntary tacking, 
for his objective point, which was evidently the for- 
ward gangplank of the Comet, Suddenly a loud 
guffaw rang out, and Miles recognized the voice as 
that of Herk. 

‘‘Hi dar, Pegleg!” yelled the darky, “ whar 
yo’ gwine? Foller yo’ nose and you’ll git some- 
whar, Timbertoes; but ef yo’ keep a-wabblin’ — ha, 
ha, ha! Whar’s yo’ hat, honey?” 

The reference to the hat served to identify the 
inebriated man and Miles remembered the wooden- 
legged knight of the bladder tournament. The new- 
comer, boiling with rage, stumped aboard and, as ill 
fortune would have it, met his tormentor at the fore 
hatch. Herk had hurried up to meet him with the 
idea of making further sport of the drunken man. 
His intended victim was half-crazed with liquor and 
now, rendered fully so by the darky’s taunts, was per- 

23 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


fectly frantic. As Herk’s woolly head appeared 
above deck the sailor drew his sheath knife and let 
drive viciously. The blade drove deep Into the 
planking within a scant twelve Inches of the negro’s 
head, and Herk sprang up the companionway and 
made a rush for the knife thrower. 

“ Herk!” 

The sound of Miles’s voice brought the darky to 
a standstill and, as the boy ran up, the two opponents 
were facing each other with glaring eyes. In the 
meantime another actor had appeared on the scene. 
A young officer, who had been standing at the rail 
giving some orders to a boatswain’s mate on the 
wharf below, jumped between the two belligerents. 

“Here, what does this mean?” he demanded 
sternly. 

“ Dat peg-legged white trash tried ter — ” be- 
gan Herk. 

“ Thot black baboon — ” started the other, 
when Miles put In : 

“ Would you mind my explaining, sir? ” 

“Not at all, sir; It looks like bad business. A 
fight among the crew before we get out of port I ” 

Miles told the story of the bladder fight and the 
bet that resulted In the loss of the bettor’s hat. 

“ If Oi may Interrup’ yer, Oi’ll shay Oi don’t 
24 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


let no man that betsh on me do widout his hat. Oi 
do be afther givin’ Gonzalvo me own, by Galway.” 

The young officer laughed good-naturedly and 
Miles resumed his explanation. 

“ I am afraid, Herk, here, was largely to blame,” 
said Miles, “ for he was baiting our friend in a 
very ” 

“ ’Deed, Marse Miles, I didn’t mean no harm. I 
dess wuzn’t a-thinkin’. I’ll he’p him ter git to bed 
an’ I’ll give him de hat I won f’m de Spaniard.” 

“ Get below, both of you, and take care that 
Captain Boyle doesn’t hear of this ! ” said the of- 
ficer. 

As Herk and Peggy started for the galley, the 
young officer turned to Miles. “ This is Mr. Gads- 
den, isn’t it?” he said, as he held out his hand. 
“ We’ve been so busy since you came aboard that I 
haven’t had a chance to welcome you. I am Carroll 
Gilmor, third officer of the Comet, I hope I shall 
be able to help you feel at home with us.” 

“ Thank you. I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Gil- 
mor,” answered Miles, as he returned the handshake 
warmly. He had been attracted from the first by 
the fine, manly face of the young sailor and had 
marked his broad shoulders and lithe figure with ad- 
miration. 


25 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Our friend ‘ Pegleg,’ as the negro calls him,” 
said Gilmor, “ is one of the most interesting mem- 
bers of our crew. He came from Galway and was 
an old neighbor of Captain Boyle’s. For that rea- 
son he is a sort of privileged character, though it is 
lucky for him that the skipper didn’t see him in his 
present condition. He is our cook and, as he is a 
‘ liberal feeder,’ he is very popular aboard ship. As 
I understand, the black fellow is to be his helper. I 
am glad they seem to be able to settle their ructions 
so easily.” 

“ Yes,” answered Miles, “ Herk is the best-na- 
tured fellow in the world and can’t stay angry five 
minutes to save his life. It is impossible for him to 
bear a grudge.” 

“ Well, ‘ Peggy,’ as we call him, is much the 
same way, and I have an idea that they will become 
fast friends. But I must leave you, as there’s lots 
to be done before we weigh anchor.” 

He hurried aft and Miles again interested him- 
self in the shifting scenes on the deck below until the 
last of the stores and ammunition had been put in 
place, the Comeths owners had given Captain Boyle 
their final good wishes for a lucky voyage, and the 
gangplanks were hauled in. 

Shortly after, taking the ebb at moonrise, the 
26 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


schooner swung gracefully from her moorings, the 
sails were spread and sheeted home, and her tapering 
bowsprit pointed for the capes. 

A few minutes later the roll of a drum announced 
supper, and at a call from Boatswain Todd, Miles 
went below. The steerage smelled no better for the 
presence of a dozen bulky men, and the steaming 
dishes of food on the chests which the men had put 
together for a table. 

There were half a dozen men seated on smaller 
boxes around their improvised table on which stood 
a “ skid,” or kettle, containing the “ salt horse,” a 
piece of salt beef. This had been boiled in salt so 
long that the outside was white with salt crystals. 
Another skid was steaming with pea soup, and was 
flanked by a pile of sea biscuit or “ hard-tack.” The 
remainder of the table furnishings consisted of a tin 
pail of molasses and a dingy, cracked, vinegar cruet. 

“ Here you be, Mr. Gadsden,” roared Todd, 
motioning Miles to a seat on the chest beside him. 
Miles rather half-heartedly obeyed the summons. 
Accustomed to the comforts of his home, this sudden 
descent into rough seafaring life took away every 
vestige of appetite. He made a brave effort, how- 
ever, to eat some of the thick soup, which was really 
not bad, but there was a big lump in his throat that 
27 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


made it hard swallowing. The others gulped their 
soup with gusto. 

“ Nothing fer a seaman like good, salt bull-meat, 
Mr. Gadsden,” observed Todd, reaching for the beef 
skid and brandishing a- long knife. 

“ Cut fair, messmate ! ” warned the gunner, fear- 
ing that all the fat and tender parts would fall to 
Todd’s blade. “ Avast, you swab,” retorted the 
other, cutting off a slice and tossing it to his own tin 
plate. “ Watch, Mr. Gadsden, this is the man-o’-war 
style o’ eatin’ it.” 

Hereupon he cut his section into lumps about the 
size of an egg, poured vinegar on them, and dusted 
them heavily with pepper. Then he stowed one com- 
pactly in his cheek. By this time, however. Miles 
felt so miserable that he muttered some excuse and 
left the ill-smelling steerage for the deck. 

As he looked at the low coast line on each side 
of the bay he wished heartily that he could swim 
ashore. “ I’d run all the way to Annapolis,” he 
added to himself dolefully. 

“ Mr. Gadsden,” came the voice of the boat- 
swain at his elbow, a half hour later, “ I’d advise ye 
to turn in airly and git a few winks while you can. 
You’ll be called for watch before sunrise, ’cos you’re 
billeted on the larboard watch.” 

28 


ABOARD THE PRIVATEER 


Following the hint, Miles turned down the lad- 
der and rolled into the hammock which Herk had al- 
ready slung for him at Todd’s direction. He had 
no heart to reply to the chaff that his neighbors gave 
him. He was disgusted and homesick. The thick 
air which the little ventilator made barely breath- 
able, the dampness and vermin of the cramped quar- 
ters, the oaths, jests and foul talk of some of his 
companions made the situation almost intolerable. 
But being thoroughly exhausted he dropped asleep 
before very long and fell to dreaming of a big, 
cleanly painted ship, whose quarter-deck he paced, 
clad in the gold-laced uniform of a captain, while 
scores of men hurried hither and thither executing 
his commands. 


CHAPTER III 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 

I N the midst of his imaginary glory Miles felt 
himself rudely shaken and awoke to find the old 
boatswain standing over his hammock. “ You sar- 
tain do sleep well,” he grinned. “Larboard watch on 
deck ! You’ll have to bear a hand about it ! ” Miles 
sprang out of his hammock, jumped into his clothes 
and joined the members of his watch as they tumbled 
up the forward ladder. His feeling of disgust with 
his new surroundings was not helped by being awak- 
ened at four on a wintry morning. 

“This is what I’ve exchanged for home I” he 
whispered to himself as he left his hammock. But 
when he reached the deck, pulling on his pea-jacket 
as he went, the fresh air that came across the danc- 
ing waters of the bay filled his lungs and his spirits 
rose with the brightness of the day. He remembered 
with some comfort the assurances of Captain Barney 
that the life of a privateersman was likely to be 

30 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


crowded with opportunities for heroic deeds, and for 
the first time he felt that he was ready to take up 
with zest whatever the duties of his new life might 
put before him. 

The deck was aswarm with men. As the custom 
was, the members of the crew were divided into two 
watches, which were alternately on duty every four 
hours, save for the “ dog watch ” in the afternoon, 
which was only two. The Comet carried a crew of 
one hundred and twenty and half that number was 
enough to manage the sail of six vessels of the size of 
the Comet. Here and there a group was ordered 
by the second officers to this duty or that and Miles 
hoped that he, as a greenhorn, might be overlooked 
in the crowd until he understood things better. 

The Comet had been footing it rather slowly 
during the night, for the wind was light, and he 
found they were now only opposite the mouth of the 
Patuxent. But, as the east whitened, a sudden puff 
came from the northwest and the sails flapped. 

“Bear a hand there! Can ye furl a sail?” 
shouted a voice back of him. He turned and saw 
Captain Boyle. “No passengers on this ship! ” he 
growled. 

Miles jumped to respond to the order implied, 
for he must show his captain that he was willing and 

31 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


efficient. He knew that Captain Barney had com- 
mended him highly to the skipper, and he turned to 
with a will, for the sake of his indorser, as well as 
to prove himself no lubber in the eyes of his com- 
mander. 

The booms swung creaking, the extra sail was 
stowed in a moment^ and before the freshening 
breeze the Comet raced down the bay. 

As Miles looked over the incidents of the morn- 
ing the only thing that seemed to distinguish him 
from the common sailor was that he was not called 
upon to join in the morning task of swabbing down 
the decks. That was some comfort. Remember- 
ing what Todd had told him, he walked aft and took 
a position by a gun on the lee side of the quarter- 
deck, where he awaited orders. For an hour he was 
utterly ignored by his commander, who blustered 
back and forth, growling at the indications of fair 
weather. 

Suddenly he shouted: “ Gadsden! ” 

Here, sir!” 

“ Answer ‘ Aye, aye, sir! ’ ” 

“Aye, aye, sir! ” 

“ Tell Todd to muster all hands! ” 

“ Aye, aye, sir ! ” 

Miles ran forward to execute the order. 


32 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


“All hands ahoy! “ rang through the ship, and 
the men of the “ watch below ” turned up on deck to 
join the rest. 

In a few minutes they were assembled on the 
quarter-deck, facing their captain. 

“ Men,” he began, “ we are aboard this ship to 
help our country by destroying the enemy’s com- 
merce. The work is risky, but if I’ve shipped a 
coward. I’ll see that he won’t ever reach home. If 
there’s a shirk aboard. I’ll make him sweat like a 
slave; but if you’ll all bear a hand like true seamen, 
there’s prize money and fame for every man jack on 
board.” 

At this the men shouted “ Huzza I ” and Boyle, 
evidently pleased with the looks of his men, with this 
short but characteristic speech turned them over to 
the first officer and went below to his cabin. 

Miles was not to see his first day aboard ship 
pass without incident. They were nearing Hampton 
Roads, and the Comet had been overhauling every 
southbound vessel sighted, to the old boatswain’s 
manifest delight. Todd had been pointing out to Miles 
the Corners sailing qualities when he suddenly broke 
off with, “ That there schooner wants to hail. Look, 
see her!” The little vessel swung off on her star- 
board tack, apparently intending to cross the bows 
33 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


of the Comet, As he looked, Miles noticed a signal 
flag fluttering at her foretop. In another moment, 
Captain Boyle, with a growl, ordered the ship 
thrown up into the wind and the two vessels lay to- 
gether. 

“Ahoy, there, what do ye want?” bellowed 
Boyle. 

“ To warn ye, my hearty,” sang out the schoon- 
er’s captain. “ There’s three frigates and a razee 
waitin’ to swaller ye at the Capes. We ain’t so crazy 
’bout gittin’ to Savannah as we wuz ! ” And he 
pointed to a hole made by a cannon shot in his main- 
sail. 

“ Thankee kindly,” replied Boyle with a laugh, 
“ but this craft has met those gentry before.” 

The helm swung over, and, while the crews 
chaffed each other, the Comet parted from the 
friendly stranger. But instead of keeping directly 
to the capes, Boyle changed his course, so that by 
the middle of the afternoon his anchor chains were 
rattling through the hawse holes off the mouth of the 
Elizabeth River. 

On the following morning, when Miles had ex- 
pected to be well at sea, he was sent with a boat party 
to Norfolk, on what he regarded as the lubberly task 
of buying fresh provisions for the captain’s table. 
34 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


This delay at Hampton Roads struck him as a very 
tame ending to their expedition, but he made good 
use of it by taking frequent meals at the Norfolk tav- 
ern and by buying fresh meat for his own mess. As 
one dull day followed another, he began to wonder 
if Boyle really deserved his name for daring. Prob- 
ably the blockading ships would stay indefinitely and 
the Comet would have to crawl back to Baltimore 
like the little schooner they had met. 

“ Don’t ye worry, my sonniwax,” laughed Todd, 
to whom Miles had grumbled. “ The old man’s 
waiting for a black night and a blow. You’ll get 
all you want, sure’s my name’s Bill Todd.” 

By the fifth day the “ black night and the blow ” 
arrived with a vengeance. Seeing the signs of the 
storm in the morning sky. Captain Boyle canceled 
all permissions for liberty ashore and began to make 
everything snug for sea. By sundown, when leaden 
clouds rushed overhead and other craft were scud- 
ding through white caps to make the friendly shelter 
of the Roads, the Comefs capstan was whirling 
around and in a few minutes she pointed seaward. 

It was a northeast gale, with spats of icy rain. 
Boyle, suiting his rig to the wind, which was almost 
dead astern as the Comet ran for the capes, sent up 
square yards on fore and main, carrying a close- 
35 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


reefed topsail, and foresail on the foremast, and a 
close-reefed topsail on the main; altogether a heavy 
spread of canvas for the rate the wind was blowing, 
but the men were out on the yards ready for instant 
shortening of sail whenever Boyle’s instinct told him 
that it was necessary. 

Miles was ordered up to the foretop to assist the 
lookout, as soon as the Comet swung out from Old 
Point into the bay. By this time the rain was already 
turning to sleet; and Miles found a cold night’s work 
ahead of him. Accordingly, he donned his heaviest 
clothes, with a pea-jacket on top, tied on a soft felt 
hat and started up the icy shrouds to his station on 
the foretop. The “ top ” on the Comet's mast was a 
platform about six feet square where the topmast 
joined the foremast. Miles had been up there but 
once before, and then while the Comet lay at anchor. 
It was a very different thing to climb up now in pitch 
darkness. Not a lantern gleamed, as Boyle did not 
want to betray the Comet to the enemy. With the 
ship tearing ahead at the speed of a racing yacht, 
lurching and swaying with the beat of the waves, 
Miles clung tightly to the shrouds and stepped care- 
fully up the icy ratlines, so carefully. Indeed, that the 
first lieutenant shouted angrily to him to “ Bear a 
hand and lay aloft I ” 


36 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


When he finally climbed through the “ lubber 
hole ” upon the top, he found a sailor who had been 
ordered there with him, ready to give him a helping 
hand. Once upon that little platform. Miles felt as 
if nothing could ever tempt him to let go the stay to 
which he clung, half lying on his stomach, facing 
forward. When Miles looked down over the edge 
of the top he could hardly see the deck below. 
Everything seemed swallowed up in darkness and 
tempest except the little top on which he and the 
sailor were stationed, and that seemed to be swinging 
between a black sky above and a roaring sea below. 

The cold rain was now turning to colder flakes 
of snow that pasted thickly over the icy rigging and 
enveloped the two cold figures on the lookout in the 
foretop. The snow drove straight into Miles’s face, 
and every now and then a dash of salt spray from the 
bows wet his lips. The wind suddenly shifted al- 
most due east; the yards swung to meet the shift of 
wind, and the Comet heeled over under the press of 
canvas till the lee rail was awash. At that angle 
Miles could stay on his perch only by bracing his 
feet against the three-inch rail that ran around the 
edge of the top. With one arm he clung to the mast 
while his other hand, numb with cold, was clenched 
to the stay. Miles was no mollycoddle, but his heart 
4 37 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


was in his mouth. The sharp angle of the foretop 
on which he lay, the tremendous sway and lurch of 
the mast as the ship leaped from one wave to an- 
other, tearing through the tempest into the thick 
darkness, made an experience that called for all his 
nerve. He shuddered as he gazed below and im- 
agined what would happen if an icy heel slipped or 
numb fingers relaxed. 

The seaman beside him noticed the shudder and 
the tightened grip on the shrouds, for he bawled Into 
Miles’s ear, “ It’s a raw night, sure’s my name’s 
Tubbs. What d’ye think the owners would say if 
they saw what the old man’s doin’ to-night? ” Then 
he chuckled as comfortably as if he were warming 
his feet on his home hearthstone. 

Miles caught the other’s spirit and began to feel 
the exhilaration of the adventure. He grinned as he 
thought of the sleek, pompous merchants who had 
come to the wharf to see the Comet sail, especially 
one whom he had overheard say to Captain Boyle, 
“ Do be prudent, sir, pray remember not to take un- 
due risks ! ” 

Suddenly, Miles’s neighbor nudged him and 
pointed ahead. By screwing up his eye against the 
arrows of sleet and snow, the lad saw swaying lights 
— the lanterns of the blockading fleet — and his heart 

38 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


jumped at the first glimpse of the enemy. But there 
was little trimming of sail, for the Comet was 
plunging toward what looked like a wide gap be- 
tween two vessels. 

Suddenly, Miles thought he saw a shape looming 
ahead, and he yelled to his neighbor. At that in- 
stant the boatswain’s whistle shrilled, the yards 
creaked around, the ship righted on even keel and 
then fell off on the other tack just in time to avoid 
a huge ship directly in her path. The latter at once 
fired two rockets that were answered by two others 
on the port bow of the privateer, which was now 
tearing ahead on her starboard tack. In a few 
minutes Todd’s whistle piped again, and the ship 
swung off on her other tack within half pistol shot of 
a British frigate. 

The rockets had done their work. Miles heard 
sharp words of command, then a deafening roar. 
His eyes and nostrils were stung with sulphurous 
smoke, the foretop mast above his head cracked and 
splintered, and the sailor Tubbs gasped an oath as 
he sank limply at Miles’s feet. Miles saw that the 
man had been stunned by the concussion, for he had 
been leaning against the heel of the mast, and was in 
great danger of falling off the top. With a few 
turns with the bight of a rope Miles lashed him 
39 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


to the mast. Then as he looked up he could see 
that the topmast had been struck by a shot and 
was straining dangerously under the pressure of 
sail. 

For a moment his heart stood still. Here he 
was, a green hand, in a crisis that called for immedi- 
ate action, with the prostrate body of a sailor clog- 
ging his foothold. Judging that his first duty was 
to report the trouble to the officers below, he hailed 
the deck, but his voice was drowned by the howling 
of the storm and the thunder of the Englishman’s 
second broadside not far astern. Above his head 
the foremast bent like a bow, threatening at any 
minute to crash to the deck. 

“ I’ve got to get that yard lowered somehow,” 
he said to himself as he clung to his swaying perch. 
The fore-topsail, he knew, was raised and lowered 
by halyards on port and starboard sides of the mast, 
and in the darkness he could barely make them out 
as they stood within reach. 

He had no knife on his own person, but he knew 
that the sailor had one in a lanyard sheath. Hold- 
ing on tightly and bracing his feet, he reached with 
his disengaged hand under the seaman’s jacket. He 
felt the knife, but, to his dismay, his fingers could 
not draw it out on account of his mitten. Another 


40 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


moment and he had drawn the mitten off with his 
teeth, and it flew out astern before the wind. 
After a vigorous slap to bring back the blood to the 
stiff fingers he reached back again and drew out the 
knife. Then', flattening himself again on the top so 
he could use both hands, he opened the blade with 
difficulty and, clutching the knife in his teeth, 
scrambled back to a standing position. Now came 
the hardest part. Leaning out, and clutching with 
one hand to a stay, he patiently sawed through the 
ropes, letting the spar drop “ by the run.” To 
Miles’s relief, when the halyards were out, the huge 
spar did not crash down the cap — as he had feared it 
would — for the strong outward pressure of the sail 
let it down gently till it seesawed on the cap. But, 
in the process, the sail slatted dangerously against 
Miles with its rain-sodden folds like a huge and hor- 
rible bird that was determined to beat the lad from 
its nest with giant wings. More than once he came 
perilously near being dashed to the deck. 

With the spar lowered, the topmast straightened 
up, relieved of the strain. Miles, seeing that he could 
do nothing toward stowing the sail single-handed, 
turned his efforts to lashing the disabled seaman 
more firmly. By this time the violent exertion had 
brought the blood to the boy’s numb fingers and he 

41 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


began to feel a new courage and self-confidence as 
he labored at his dizzy work. 

Suddenly he caught his name shouted up from 
the captain’s speaking trumpet. “ Gadsden ! lay 
down from aloft! ” The unauthorized lowering of 
the fore-topsail yard had quickly attracted attention, 
especially as the Comet was by this time racing off 
on an easy tack out of gunshot. Miles hurried down 
and to Captain Boyle’s stern query explained as best 
he could in a few words what had happened, where- 
upon Boyle sent up his carpenter to investigate the 
damage, and ordered three seamen to bring down 
the unconscious man. 

“ Fore-topmast busted by a solid shot, sir,” re- 
ported the carpenter as he regained the deck. 

“ A broth of a boy ye are, Gadsden,” cried 
Boyle warmly; “go below and turn in. Ye’ve had 
enough rough work for a while I ” 

Tired as he was, the excitement of the night kept 
Miles staring at the creaking timbers over his ham- 
mock for more than an hour. He began to realize 
that it was only the lucky roll of the British ship 
that sent her broadside high and saved the Comet 
from being blown out of water. But, best of all, 
he had won a hearty word from his commander, 
and he dropped off to sleep as happy as he was tired. 
42 


RUNNING THE BLOCKADE 


During the night an occasional booming of the 
Englishman’s bow chasers showed that the frigate 
still held on in chase; but the Comet was probably 
the swiftest of all the fast clippers that flew the 
stars and stripes; and when Miles reported for duty 
the following morning, a strict search with the 
glasses failed to discover even a masthead over the 
hills of foam. 


CHAPTER IV 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 

B efore breakfast the following morning 
Todd sought out Miles, and told him that he 
was to mess with the officers, by order of Captain 
Boyle. This was good news to the lad, for he felt 
that it put him on a better footing. Even though 
he had no title in the ship’s company, he was now 
rated with the officers. At breakfast call he was 
quick to report to his new mess room, where before 
that day he had never set foot. He found a small, 
rectangular cabin, set amidships, lighted by a sky- 
light overhead, and occupied chiefly by a huge ma- 
hogany table that shone like a ripe cherry. Around 
this were set swivel chairs, for which there was 
barely room against the sides of the cabin. At the 
head of the table, nearest the door, sat already the 
first officer, who greeted him with a curt but cheery 
nod. At the other end sat Gilmor, who, on seeing 
44 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


Miles, called out: “Here you are!” and pointed 
to the seat he was to occupy. 

“ What a splendid table I ” cried Miles, after he 
had squirmed into his seat. 

“Isn’t it?” laughed Gilmor. “That used to 
belong to a British bark a year ago, but it’s changed 
hands. We find your big nigger, Herk, just the 
man for putting a shine on it.” 

Just then the others came in, each with a pleas- 
ant word for their new messmate. One of the 
most interesting of his new companions he soon dis- 
covered was Pierre Lusson, the second officer. In 
the first place, he was of striking build, of average 
height, but weighing well over two hundred pounds, 
his breadth of shoulder and depth of chest were fully 
double those of the ordinary man, so that when he 
entered, as Miles noticed, the burly Frenchman 
swung sideways so as not to scrape the door facings. 
In spite of his thickset appearance, it was easy to see 
that he had no waste fat on his big bones. When 
he spoke, it was with a deep resonant tone. “ Just 
the voice for orders in a storm,” reflected Miles. 
The Frenchman’s winning feature, however, was his 
twinkling brown eye, that suggested a world of good 
nature. 

“ Ma foil ” cried Lusson, as he squeezed into 

45 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


his chair at the table, “ I believe I could eat a horse, 
wiz ze hoof and ze hide.” 

“ Excuse me for flattering you,” answered the 
“ first luff,” Bradford, “ but I am sure you could do 
it. I begin to suspect that I know where my old 
pair of boots went.” 

“ The first luff is about right ! ” said Gilmor 
in an aside to Miles. “ Pierre is certainly hateful 
after his rations ! ” 

Miles took a furtive survey of the little first 
lieutenant, whose explosive temper almost every- 
body on ship held in dread. He was slight and 
dark, with small, carefully curled side whiskers in 
the fashion of the day; and made an amusing con- 
trast with the big blond Lusson, who sat on his 
right. In fact, Lusson was the only man except 
Boyle that dared to joke at Bradford’s expense, for 
even the obstreperous Gilmor, who occasionally 
joked with Boyle, never ventured to bandy reparcse 
with Bradford. 

When Herk’s grinning teeth showed through the 
steam of a big pan of stewed oysters in the doorway 
there was a shout of applause, and when a moment 
later this dish was flanked by a platter of roasted 
potatoes, the chorus of approval made Herk feel 
himself to be the hero of the hour. He hurried out 
46 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


to report to Peggy, his superior officer, with all his 
teeth on dress parade. Lusson’s eyes glistened as 
the dishes arrived. 

“ Our Peggy, he ees not a peench-gut,” the big 
fellow remarked approvingly, and when he fell to, 
the way potatoes, bacon, and oysters disappeared was 
amazing. Gilmor intercepted one of Miles’s sur- 
prised glances at the rapidly growing pile of potato 
skins at the side of Lusson’s plate and burst into a 
hearty laugh. 

“ What did I tell you, Gadsden ! ” he cried. 
“ He creates havoc at a mess table, doesn’t he? The 
potatoes he can do to death in one engagement would 
keep a man-of-war’s crew from the scurvy for a 
whole cruise. Why, the oyster bottoms of Chesa- 
peake Bay would hardly afford him a day’s ra- 
tions I ” 

One of Lusson’s cheeks was distended, but he 
managed to grin cheerfully with the opposite corner 
of his mouth. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and 
with an oyster held in peril near its grave, said: 
“ Say on, mon ami. Ventre affame n* a pas point 
d! or eilles! 

“ Good, Pierre, good! ” laughed Gilmor. 

“ What did he say? ” asked Miles. 

“ He says, ‘ a starved belly has no ears,’ and I 

47 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


reckon if that is so, Pierre’s stomach is stone 
deaf.” 

Lusson’s eyes twinkled. However, being too 
busy with his provender to reply, he continued to 
“ pass supplies down his hatchway,” as Gilmor put 
it, with unabated zeal. 

Next to Lusson sat the surgeon. Dr. Banks, a 
quiet, elderly man. He wore large, silver-rimmed 
spectacles, an ill-fitting wig, and affected a gruff man- 
ner in order to maintain his dignity among his 
younger messmates; but later Miles found him to be 
as kind at heart as any one on board. 

Breakfast over. Miles reported on deck, and at 
the stroke of eight bells went on watch. Borrow- 
ing Gilmor’s glass he went aloft to the foretop, the 
scene of the previous night’s adventure, where he 
was ordered as lookout. As he circled the horizon 
in an effort to sight a hostile sail, Lusson appeared 
on deck. With a knowing wink at Todd, who was 
busy near by, he called: “ On ze lookout for game, 
Gadsden? ” 

“ Aye, but there’s not a sail in sight,” said Miles 
disgustedly. 

“ Well, we cannot promees a fight or a foot race 
every day. I should sink last night’s rencontre would 
have satisfied you for a leetle while I ” 

48 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


“ He’s a blood-thirsty youngster, that one,” re- 
marked Todd, as he crossed the deck for a spit to 
leeward, “ but, blast my magazine, he’ll get his belly- 
ful of bloody business, or my name’s not Bill Todd. 
Eh, Peggy? ” 

This last was directed to the cook, who was 
stumping by. “ I do be t’inkin’, by Galway,” said 
as he cocked one eye aloft, “ that I could tell 
yez the name of a foine-lookin’ young gintleman that 
will turn sick at the stoomick whiniver he hears ‘ sail 
ho ’ if he sarves wid Cap’n Tummas Boyle of Galway 
manny weeks. If iver there was a man spoilin’ fer 
a good loively ruction, ’tis that same son of the sod, 
by Galway I ” 

Unconscious of the fun at his expense. Miles 
kept his station at the foretop, and earnestly scanned 
the waste of waters on every side. The happenings 
of the night before had whetted his appetite for 
adventure, and a feeling of exultation and self-suffi- 
ciency thrilled him as he reflected that he had suc- 
cessfully stood the test of being under fire. He was 
yet to learn that mere absence of fear when under 
the excitement of stirring incidents is not everything. 
For the time, though, he was perfectly happy, and 
his situation was one well calculated to make him so. 
The day was clear and crisp with a fresh breeze that 
49 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


sent the Comet speeding southward under a full 
spread of canvas. Though the weather had been 
wintry enough when the privateer cleared the capes, 
to-day a balminess in the air showed the influence of 
the Gulf Stream, becoming more and more marked 
as the schooner held her course toward the Carib- 
bean. 

It did not take long, however, for the self-satis- 
fied feeling of the day after running the blockade to 
give way to mortification at his own ignorance. 
There seemed to be so little that he knew how to do 
aboard ship. At home, preparing for his expected 
commission in the navy, he had studied navigation, 
and knew something about the theory of it, but, 
naturally, on the Comet he had nothing of that to 
do. It was the details of practical seamanship that 
he needed to know, and that he found he did not 
know at all. 

First of all, he had to learn the discipline and 
organization of the ship. As Todd had said. Cap- 
tain Boyle ran his ship as If it were a smart man-of- 
war, and woe to the man who forgot that fact for 
an Instant. For example. Miles heard a seaman 
sharply lectured for referring to the “ galley ’’ as the 
“ caboose,” which Is the merchantman’s name for the 
ship’s kitchen. 


50 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


In the first place, the entire crew and most of the 
officers were divided into the two watches, “ starboard 
and larboard,” each of which was on duty four hours 
at a time. The seamen were also rated in classes 
known as the “ after guard,” “ waisters,” “ fore- 
castle men,” and “ top men,” the last being the very 
pick of the crew, the next best being the “ after 
guard,” and the green, or untested, men were the 
“ waisters,” that is, those whose stations were amid- 
ships. 

Next, there were several points of man-of-war 
etiquette that Miles had to learn. First, on ascend- 
ing to the quarter-deck from below, he had to 
“ salute the deck,” and after the first blowing-up he 
got from Captain Boyle he never forgot the cere- 
mony. He learned, too, that no one, not even an 
officer, is allowed to sit on the quarter-deck, much less 
indulge in loud conversation or laughter. Lieutenant 
Bradford taught him that point with great fluency of 
language. That very day he saw some one else catch 
it from the fiery first luff. It was one of the green 
hands who innocently walked aft on the weather side 
of the deck, which was sacred to the officers, instead 
of crossing over to leeward. 

In fact, there seemed to be so much to learn all 
at once that he felt very much bewildered, and ran 
SI 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


from Gilmor to Todd, trying to get “ pointed fair,” 
as the latter put it. But the etiquette of the ship 
was only the beginning of what he had to learn. 
One morning, about a week after leaving the capes, 
Miles, being off duty, came upon Bill Todd, who, 
also being off duty, was cutting with infinite care a 
slice of his beloved weed. 

“ When are you going to spin me that yarn about 
how you lost that ear?” asked Miles. “Now’s a 
good chance. ” 

“ Wall,” deliberated the boatswain, “ I’m all 
right now for the yarn, if you’ll give me your solerm 
affidavy that what I tell you is atween you and me 
and the dog-vane. Is it a bargain? ” 

“ Cross my heart and body, by the Beard of the 
Prophet, and ’pon honor, besides,” agreed Miles, 
laughing. “ Spin the yarn.” 

“ Wall,” deliberated the old fellow, “ when me 
an’ Paul Jones was — Why, blast my magazine, lad, 
here I am spinnin’ a yarn when Cap’n Boyle just 
give me sailin’ orders about you ! ” And he looked 
up with such a comical air of pretended surprise at 
his own absent-mindedness that Miles burst out 
laughing. 

“Laughin’, are ye? Better stow that, Mr. 
Gadsden. ’Scuse me, but you act like your jibs is 

52 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


bowsed out taut! ” rebuked the old Triton, with a 
frown and a sharp snap of his clasp knife. “ Cap’n 
Boyle says to me, no later than seven bells : ‘ Go 
bat some sea sense in that young lubber’s head if you 
can ’ — ’scuse me, but them’s his very words — and 
you’ll obey the cap’n’s orders, Mr. Gadsden.” 

“ Aye, a^^e,” replied Miles soberly, seeing that 
the old man resented being laughed at. 

“ Very good. Here’s a fair piece of rope yarn. 
Now, sir, show me a rollin’ half hitch.” 

‘‘ Why, I know a clove hitch, and two half 
hitches on a bight, but ” 

“ Ho, ho I ” roared Todd. “ Is that your sea 
kit? A clove hitch, and two half hitches on a 
bight! ” The old tar shouted with derision at such 
abysmal ignorance. “ Here, younker, peel your eyes, 
and do it over after me. Don’t let me have to larn 
ye again.” 

Miles had barely learned the two half hitches 
with the extra turn, which constituted the “ rollin’ 
half hitch,” when two young sailors came forward 
from the main hatch. 

“ Hold hard a bit, my boy. Here comes Jen- 
kins and Potts with a lot of junk I told them to make 
up into swabs.” The old man turned toward the 
two seamen. 


5 


53 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Dump that junk by the combings, and unlay it 
into yarns. Take some good strands and make some 
grommets. Soon as ye get that done, take the twist 
and lay well out an’ middle ’em in the grommets, 
and keep on fillin’ up close to the grommets ; clap on 
a good seizin’ of spun-yarn, and then snake it. Now, 
don’t you young spit-to-wind’ards cut off the ends 
of the strands! Seize ’em in with the rest of the 
swab I ” 

This was practically all Greek to Miles, and 
for the moment diverted his thoughts from the 
mysterious story connected with Todd’s damaged 
ear. 

“ What does all that mean, Todd? ” he asked. 

“ Well, if you step up here by these two green- 
horns, I’ll show ye,” was the answer. “ They don’t 
know much more about it than you do, so it’s a good 
chance to larn ye somethin’ about knots, splices, 
hitches, and etcetery.” 

Miles was interested at once, but as they walked 
down the deck toward the two sailors, he remem- 
bered the damaged ear story, and said : 

“ Todd, we’re forgetting about that ear.” 

“ W’ich ear?” asked Todd innocently. “Oh, 
yes,” as if he suddenly recollected a long forgotten 
topic, “ I’ll tell ye somethin’ about that flapper when 
54 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


I git a chance to leave these lubbers here what’s try- 
in’ to make swabs.” 

The two men looked up from their work, and 
grinned cheerfully at Todd, who thereupon con- 
cluded his remarks to Miles with the statement that 
the “ two burgoo-swillin’ spit-to-wind’ards ” before 
him were the “ thickest-headed mullets that ever 
signed articles aboard ship.” The pair evidently 
understood the boatswain’s character, for when he 
rolled to the lee rail and spurted viciously, one of 
them jerked a thumb at the old man, and said in a 
hoarse whisper: “ Thar she blows ! ” while the other 
winked one of a pair of twinkling eyes at Miles. 

“ Now,” said Todd, returning with a fresh lump 
in his cheek, “ you two fetch this here junk up in 
shootin’ distance o’ that larboard hawse pipe, and 
I’ll start this young gentleman on his fust lesson in 
handlin’ knots and hitches. I must have a outlet 
to my feelin’s or I can’t do no work to speak on,” 
he continued, as he reached the spot indicated, and 
spurt I went the brown stream through the hawse 
hole, which, on account of the smooth sea, had been 
left open for the convenience of the deck swabbers 
that morning. 

Soon Miles was deep in the intricacies of his rope 
yarn, his first day’s lesson dealing with “ timber 
55 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


hitches,” “ sheepshanks,” “ bowline knots,” and 
“ carrick bends.” When the sailors had finished 
their swabs, Todd took the rope from Miles and 
told him to watch the making of a “ bowline on a 
bight,” which all three of the greenhorns, he ob- 
served, needed to learn right away. 

“ Take a bight o’ the rope in your right hand — 
right hand, I said, Jenkins, you mullet-headed, bum- 
boat blockhead — and the standin’ part in your left; 
throw a cuckold’s neck over the bight with the stand- 
in’ parts, and then haul enough on the bight up 
through the cuckold’s neck to go under and over all 
parts; now jam all tight, and ye got her right as a 
trivet ! ” 

Miles followed the process with strict attention, 
learning nothing at all from the instructions, but a 
good deal from what he saw ; and by hard work was 
soon able to do it himself without help. By this 
time the bells rang for change of watch, and Todd 
announced that “ school had let out.” Thereafter, 
every day Miles was rounded up by the boatswain 
for his lessons in the handling of ropes, and an ex- 
acting teacher the old fellow proved. Finally, when 
the boy had gone through the mysterious list of 
“ Flemish eyes,” “ salvagee straps,” “ knittles,” 
“ black-wall hitches,” and the like, had learned to 

56 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


splice neatly and lay a “ Matthew Walker,” Todd 
took his pupil to the rigging. 

Here Miles found great difficulty in remember- 
ing the names of the myriads of ropes and where they 
were belayed. He began to realize what the expres- 
sion means, to learn the ropes.” Without saying 
anything to Todd, he began by writing in pencil on 
the buff paint work around the belaying pins the 
name of each rope to help him remember; but he 
had not gone very far before Bradford caught him 
at it, and the peppery little officer exploded with so 
much fury at such lubberly practices that Miles had 
to get along as best he could without. 

Finally, he took to making drawings of the rig- 
gings of the various spars with the name of every 
rope and sail, and by diligent study made enough 
progress to get a grudging compliment even from 
the old boatswain himself. 

In after days, however, as he looked back over 
his life aboard the Comet, he felt that he owed about 
as much to Lusson as to Todd; for the Frenchman 
taught him the use of the sword as few men could 
have done. 

Before coming to America, Lusson had been 
one of the best swordsmen in the French service. 
When almost a boy, while stationed at the navy yard 

57 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


at rOrient, he had welcomed the opportunity to join 
Paul Jones at the time the latter called for volunteers 
to fill out the complement of the Bon Homme Rich- 
ard, During the war he met Todd, and when there 
was a promise of another war between America and 
Great Britain, the Yankee had taken an early oppor- 
tunity to write, urging his old comrade in arms to 
join the men of the states in their second war with 
Great Britain. The letter found Lusson nominally 
a sergeant of marines at Brest, but in reality a fenc- 
ing master, whose services were in great demand 
among the officers of the French navy. The call 
from across the water came fortunately, as he told 
Miles, within thirty days of the end of his enlist- 
ment; and, as he was an ardent republican and out 
of sympathy with Bonaparte’s empire, the day of 
his discharge found him on the way to Havre to 
board a Baltimore clipper. Todd’s indorsement 
had satisfied Boyle, and as the latter was in need of 
a man to fill the second officer’s berth, Lusson was 
promptly signed. 

At Bradford’s suggestion. Miles asked the big 
Frenchman to teach him sword play; and found 
that Lusson was not only willing to teach him, but 
delighted to have a pupil. Gilmor, too, became in- 
terested at once, and asked leave to join the class. 

58 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


Lusson was surprised to find that Miles was no nov- 
ice either with the rapier or with the broadsword, 
and complimented the boy in a way that brought a 
flush of pleasure to his cheeks. 

“ He ees not ze novice I thought he was, 
Meestaire Gilmor. Already he has handled ze 
blade!” 

“ I envy you, Gadsden. That is a good deal for 
him to say,” said Gilmor. “ I find him very chary 
of praise in my case.” 

“Ah, zat ees different! You have had ze ex- 
perience; but because he ees new to ze warfare, I 
V did not sink of heem as a swordsman.” 

Miles explained that his tutor at home had in- 
sisted on an hour’s work each day with the foils as 
part of the curriculum of a future naval officer. 
This brought forth the statement from Lusson that 
it was a pity more were not of the same way of think- 
ing, followed by a dissertation on the value of an 
intimate knowledge of the “ gentleman’s weapon ” 
and its superiority over the pistol, which was then 
in favor as a dueling weapon. Miles was so much 
impressed that when he resumed the work with the 
foils it was with added respect for the weapon. 

In a bout with Gilmor, Miles came off so well 
that when his turn came to face the Frenchman he 


59 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


felt confident that he could show his teacher a thing 
or two about rapid sword play. As he pranced be- 
fore Lusson, Miles noticed a look of astonishment, 
and was encouraged to make a still more sensational 
display by attempting some lively offensive work. 
As he capered about the big fellow, the latter gave 
way and seemed to be carefully guarding. Miles 
side-stepped, drew back from a thrust that fell short, 
and then lunged for a stroke that he thought was to 
reach home. In his excitement he crowded the in- 
terested Gilmor backward over a coil of rope. This 
he saw out of the corner of his eye just as Lusson, in 
the most nonchalant manner, seemed to twist his 
own weapon about Miles’s blade. Instantly, the boy 
felt his wrist wrenched, and saw his opponent care- 
lessly toss the foil down the companionway. To 
Gilmor the chagrin on Miles’s face was so irresistibly 
ludicrous, that he screamed with laughter, but Lusson 
said, with only a slight smile : 

“ Ha, zat was a lively leetle passahge, was eet 
not? ” 

“Well — ah — how on earth did you do it?” 
gasped Miles. 

“ That’s what I’d like to know,” said Gilmor, as 
he scrambled to his feet, convulsed with merriment. 
“ I turned turtle, and when I righted myself, Miles’s 
6o 


SEAMANSHIP AND SWORD PLAY 


sword was gone. Why didn’t you wait ’til I got my 
bearings? ” 

“ Find ze sword, Gilmor, and I shall show you 
how eet was did — done, I mean.” 

“ Bless my soul, you’ll have to furnish me with a 
chart and point me fair. Last I saw of it, it was 
sailing toward the futtock shrouds.” 

Miles didn’t relish the fun at his expense, but 
joined in the laugh as Bill Todd came on deck, ask- 
ing innocently: 

** Any of you gentlemen lose a small sword with 
a bullet on the end of it ? I seen a stray one a while 
ago.” 

“Where away, bos’n?” asked Gilmor. 

“ Three points off the port corner of the last step 
of that there companionway,” was the answer, and 
Todd cleared the lee taffrail with an unctuous spurt. 

Miles was before Gilmor in recovering his sword, 
and returned rather shamefacedly. As the fencers 
faced each other again, Lusson said: 

“Now, watch me; eet ees queeck, so!” and a 
second after the meeting of the blades Miles was 
disarmed, his weapon sailing this time toward Todd, 
who ducked, and said: 

“ Rainin’ swords again 1 I tell ye, Mr. Gads- 
den, if you could feed ’em to him fast enough, he 

6i 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


could keep a string of ’em up in the air all the 
time.” 

Though Miles did not appreciate it at the time, 
the part of the day’s lesson that was most valua- 
ble to him was the discovery that, after all, he knew 
very little about the art of fencing. For a time 
there was danger of a loss of self-confidence on the 
boy’s part, but Lusson knew that with a personality 
like Miles’s, overconfidence was more to be guarded 
against. With his daily instruction and occasional 
encouragement, Miles’s nerve soon came back, and 
many hours were pleasantly and profitably spent as 
the Comet was swinging away toward the tropics. 


CHAPTER V 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


VOIDING the Windward Passage because of 



jl jl the British squadron that used Kingston as a 
base, Boyle aimed to work into the path of the mer- 
chantmen trading between the ports of England and 
the British possessions in South America. 

Though Miles’s own father was a privateersman, 
he himself entertained rather supercilious feelings to- 
ward the profession, influenced by the known atti- 
tude of naval officers. This feeling he voiced one 
day as he and Gilmor stood leaning on the taffrail 
watching a school of porpoises. 

“ Do you consider this scouring the seas for 
peaceful little traders real warfare, Gilmor? ” Miles 
asked. 

The young officer’s face took on a displeased ex- 
pression, and for a moment he said nothing. “ I 
guess Cap’n Boyle has just as much stomach for a 
fight as you, Gadsden. You haven’t developed 


63 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


enough patience for a seaman. Here comes Todd; 
ask him.” 

“ Oh, I know what he will say,” answered Miles, 
“ but it seems to me that this is purely a commercial 
venture, as if the skipper and the rest of us only 
welcomed war because it means prize money, and 
not because we want to avenge the wrongs of our 
impressed sailors.” 

“ Now, lookee, my boy — if you’ll excuse me for 
bein’ familiar?” replied the boatswain, “but have 
you ever been impressed? ” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ Well, now, you don’t see me a-makin’ no 
blubberin’s over my revenge, do ye ? Look at 
this back!” Suiting the action to the word, old 
Todd wrenched his shirt tail free of his belt and 
pulled it up around his shoulders. Miles stared with 
horror at the sight presented. Crisscrossed from 
side to side was a latticework of purple scars. 

“ That’s what I’ve got to remember forced sar- 
vice under a dirty English brute. Don’t you think I 
want to pay ’em back, and don’t you think I know 
the kind of a skipper to ship with to do it? I re- 
member on the Richard Cap’n Jones ” 

“ Sail ho I ” came a voice from the foretop. 

“Where away?” called Bradford. 

64 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


“ Dead ahead, sir,” was the answer, and all eyes 
scanned the surface of the waters. 

“ Aye, there’s the tip of a topmast,” said Todd a 
moment later. 

Miles was sent to inform Captain Boyle, who was 
in his cabin, and the skipper ran up the ladder steps 
like a boy. 

After inspecting the stranger through his glass, 
he said disgustedly, “ It’s only a little two-masted 
schooner. If she flies the ‘ blood and guts of old 
England,’ though, we’ll have to take her into camp.” 

Within the hour the Comet had overhauled her 
quarry, a small schooner but heavily cargoed. Boyle 
had not even gone through the formality of firing 
across her bows, but simply ran alongside, shortened 
sail and called for her surrender. The schooner’s 
captain hastily complied, and sent a boat aboard with 
the information that his vessel was the Dormouse, 
sixty days from Plymouth, with a cargo of hardware 
and calicoes. 

In a few minutes arrangements were made for a 
prize crew and a transference of the prisoners to 
the Comet. Out of the crew of eight, three were 
left on the Dormouse, and the rest transferred to the 
privateer. 

“ Here, Hoffman 1 ” called Boyle to a tall young 

65 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


sailor who stood leaning on the bulwarks, “ you’ll 
do. Pick three men and jump aboard.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir ! ” and Hoffman turned to a group 
at the mainmast, “ Johnson, Tubbs and — and Stew- 
art.” 

“Aw, hell! Skip me. Jack. I don’t want to 
go back when I ain’t seen no fightin’, ” expostulated 
the last selection. 

“ You swab,” replied Hoffman, “ do you think 
I want to go? ” 

“ Lively there ! ” roared Boyle, and the four men 
dived below, reappearing in a few moments with 
their kits. Five minutes later, the little prize, with 
the Stars and Stripes at her masthead, keeled over 
before the wind and headed northwest, while the 
crew of the Comet sent a parting cheer. 

Then, as the Comet herself swung away in the 
opposite direction, Miles sauntered aft to where 
Gilmor was listening to one of the cook’s yarns. 
Peggy turned as Miles came up. 

“ Well, by Galway, at last ye’ve seen a rale cap- 
ture, Mr. Gadsden.” 

“ Yes, such as it was,” said Miles disgustedly. 
“ I reckon we’ll be picking up an orange crate next I 
It just shows the difference between privateering and 
the navy.” 


66 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


“ What I ” shouted a voice at his shoulder. 
“The navy? Why, damme, boy, do ye sneer at a 
privateersman’s work? ” 

Recognizing Bradford’s voice. Miles turned, 
greatly taken aback at having been overheard by the 
“ first luff,” and said hesitatingly, “ Why, I — you 

know, I mean on a man-of-war ” 

“Man-of-war — pah I” snorted Bradford in a 
high temper. “ What do you know about a man- 
of-war? I warrant, ye’ll see the sand on the deck 
just as soon and a deal sight oftener aboard the 
Comet than you would on a lumberin’ seventy-four. 
An’ I’ll tell you furthermore, there’s no craft cutting 
water to-day that can show this good little ship a 
clean pair of heels! ” 

“ I didn’t mean 

“ Never mind what you didn’t mean — it’s what 
you did mean that counts. You meant that the work 
of a privateer counted for naught in this war. Does 
it mean nothing that a nation’s commerce be de- 
stroyed, that her supplies for her armies be turned 
away to her enemy? And you’ll find a navy man 
just as keen for his prize money as we are. Bah! 
You may have the making of a navy dandy, but I’ve 
a premonition that the sprinkling of the sand on the 
deck will set your teeth to chattering! ” 

67 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ I’m not a coward ! ” retorted Miles indig- 
nantly, as the outburst ended. 

“ Brave men do but little foolish talking, boy,” 
was the answer the first lieutenant flung back over his 
shoulder as he stalked to the cabin ladder. 

Peggy had retreated to a position of safety 
behind the mizzenmast, but Gilmor, seeing Miles 
struggling between anger and humiliation, stepped 
up and, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder, said: 

“ Don’t feel so keenly over it. Miles. His 
squalls blow over quickly. He’s hot-tempered, but 
he can’t bear ill-will an hour.” 

“ I know, Gilmor,” was the answer, “ but the 
worst is that I was wrong.” 

“ Said like a man — that’s the right spirit, any- 
how. Come, let’s get in the shade of the mains’l; 
this equator weather is too much for my constitu- 
tion. By the way, it occurred to me to ask you about 
your sister? Isn’t Miss Deborah Gadsden, of An- 
napolis, your sister? I thought so; well, I met her at 
an Assembly in Philadelphia about two years ago, 
and they told me that she would probably marry an 
English nobleman. She was then one of the most 
charming young ladies I ever saw and I hoped the 
rumor was not true, if you don’t mind my saying so.” 

“ The rumor wasn’t true in more senses than 

68 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


one,” replied Miles, grateful for the change of sub- 
ject. “ He turned out to be an absolute impostor, 
when father took the trouble to look up his antece- 
dents, and it didn’t take long for the old gentleman 
to boot him off our front steps, I can tell you.” 

“ What was he?” 

‘‘ I never saw him — we never even learned his 
real name. I was away at school in Baltimore while 
his courtship was going on, but father discovered 
that he was a junior lieutenant of the British navy 
who had been suspended several months for miscon- 
duct. Sister never liked him. I’m glad to say, but 
the idea of a real lord in Annapolis society made a 
sensation, they tell me. My I I wish I had a 
chance at him ! ” 

“ Well, let’s hope we run across him in this war 
and finish the licking he deserves,” laughed Gilmor. 
“ I’ll be glad to help you. Miles. Some one told 
me, too, that your father had been captured early in 
the war. I hope that rumor is as false as the other? ” 

“ I wish it were,” said Miles ruefully. “ But I’m 
hoping by this time he’s been exchanged.” 

“ Yes, let’s hope so, anyhow! ” answered Gilmor 
cheerily, and went on watch in response to the clang 
of the ship’s bell. 

Miles knew before long that Bradford had re- 
6 69 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


ported his remarks on privateering to the skipper, 
for Boyle summoned the boy to his cabin and had a 
little talk with him that made his ears burn with 
mortification. During the days that immediately 
followed he fairly ate out his heart wishing for a 
chance to distinguish himself and regain the favor 
with the officers that he felt he had lost. One day 
a hail came from aloft that seemed to promise such 
a chance and it set him tingling with excitement. 

“Sail ho! ” It was the first time the cry had 
been heard since the sighting of the little prize a 
week before, which had brought about Miles’s hu- 
miliation. 

“ She ain’t no Britisher, though,” said Todd 
oracularly when the strange brig was still so far 
away that her hull was barely visible. “ More 
likely a Dane or Swede.” 

Miles wondered skeptically how the old fellow 
knew, but decided to keep silent and await develop- 
ments. The brig made no move to escape as the 
Comet swung toward her, and, sure enough — to 
Miles’s disappointment — flew Swedish colors on 
heaving to in obedience to Boyle’s signal. In an- 
other moment he was watching a boat from the 
Cornet^ under Lusson, riding the heavy swell over 
to the sides of the stranger. 

70 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


“ The oV man knows it ain’t no Johnny Bull,” 
said Todd, biting off a generous chew, “ but he’s 
lookin’ for news.” 

Miles could see now that the dress and features 
of the crew bore out the colors at the brig’s gaff, but 
he couldn’t imagine how Todd had guessed the na- 
tionality at such a distance. Finally, after several 
minutes of thought, he put the question. 

“ Now, lad,” replied the old salt with pity in 
his tone, “ how could ye ask? Look at them heavy 
spars, and see how high the cro’-jack is rigged. You 
never seen an English ship rigged that style. Them 
things make the difference ’tween the sailor and 
the lubber. You’ve got to larn ’em. Perhaps ye 
don’t remember that little Englishman we took last 
week? ” 

Miles flushed. He had good reason to remem- 
ber that vessel, and he did not thank his old mentor 
for mentioning it 

“ A man can larn a lot if he wants to,” the other 
began again with a kindly grin, when Lusson sud- 
denly reappeared climbing up the rope ladder. He 
went aft to report to Boyle, and then stopped to say 
a word to Gilmor, who hurried forward to where 
Todd and Miles were standing. 

“ Good news 1 ” he cried, slapping Miles on the 

71 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


back. “ The Swede says he left two British brigs 
and a large ship loading in Pernambuco for London. 
We are just in time to catch ’em. He says, too, that 
they carry a lot of guns, so there’ll be a fine scrim- 
mage I ” 

The news ran through the ship like wildfire, and 
every man jack of the crew looked as pleased as if 
the expected prize money were already in his pock- 
et. The captain, too, who had been rather moody 
after his weeks of fruitless cruising, beamed like 
the rest. 

“Herk!” he shouted, “go tell Peggy to serve 
duff to-day.” 

“ Yassir,” cried the darky, who turned to obey 
in such a hurry that he stumbled over a coil of rope 
and collided with Todd, knocking him clear across 
the deck, breathless and dazed with the shock. 
There was a roar of laughter from all hands; then 
the crew mounted the bulwarks and cheered the 
Swedish vessel with a will as she swung away on her 
course. Todd, meanwhile, disappeared below to find 
Herk and unload a piece of his mind. 

At this time the Comet lay within twenty-five 
miles of the port of Pernambuco. A few hours’ sail- 
ing brought her within sight of the harbor mouth, and 
then, tacking, she beat up the coast for a few miles 
72 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


to the entrance of a wide creek that afforded a safe 
anchorage. 

“ We couldn’t be in better luck,” said Gilmor to 
Miles as the anchor splashed overboard. “ We’ve 
got to wait around here for those ships, and they say 
these tropical storms on a lee shore are murderous. 
But, see here, the old man’s sent me to tell all hands 
that the first lad to clap eyes on those Englishmen 
will get double prize money.” 

However, the incentive was scarcely needed. Of- 
ficers and men off duty already lined the rail or hung 
in the rigging, looking intently in the direction of 
Pernambuco. Through most of the night every offi- 
cer, including Miles, paced to and fro between the 
lines of sleeping men peering out for the lights of 
the English ships. The moon was bright and the sky 
clear, with a fresh sea breeze that made the tropical 
night quite comfortable. Toward three in the morn- 
ing, tired and disgusted. Miles crawled under a boat 
and fell asleep, not to awake till the swabbers routed 
him out in the morning deck-scrubbing. 

Nothin’ yet,” said Todd, to whom Miles put the 
anxious question as he rubbed his eyes. And, as the 
sun rose higher, the strain of watching relaxed. 
Some were even so skeptical as to suggest that the 
Swede had been fooling them. But Gilmor main- 
73 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


tained his station high in the foretop, despite the 
heat, and kept his glass leveled at Pernambuco. 

“ Come up with me. Miles! ” he called down to 
his friend. Miles started to climb rather listlessly, 
when suddenly he heard Gilmor bawling, “ Sail ho! ” 
The very shrouds seemed to tingle with excitement 
as all hands sprang to the rail or in the rigging, and 
every eye strained toward the horizon. 

“Where away? ” came from a dozen throats in 
chorus. 

“ Sail ho ! ” again came the shout, “ two points 
off the starboard bow.” 

Captain Boyle did not wait for further evidence 
than Gilmor’s word. In a twinkling the quiet scene 
was transformed into a confusion of bawling orders 
and trampling feet. “ All hands, up anchor, ahoy! ” 
rang the length of the deck. The capstan bars flew 
round with a will, the anchor came dripping to the 
bows, and sails were shaken out in an unbeliev- 
ably short time. A fresh breeze was curling the 
water, and it sent the Comet racing out to the 
open sea. 

It was a sore disappointment to Miles that Gil- 
mor, and not he, had been the first to sight the Eng- 
lishmen. But he was among the first to congratulate 
the sharp-eyed young officer. Miles felt that Brad- 
74 


SIGHTING THE ENEMY 


ford and Boyle still regarded him with disfavor for 
his unfortunate remark about privateers, and he was 
most anxious to do something to set himself right 
again. He confided this feeling to Gilmor, who said 
with a laugh: 

“ Harkee, Miles, they aren’t as sore as you think; 
but there’s a fight coming in which you can square 
your yards again ; only don’t be foolhardy. See ” — 
and he pointed at the flecks of white which were now 
clearly visible — “ there are four now, and we only 
bargained for three. If they all have guns, we’ll 
have to man our fourteen with ginger. Boyle says 
‘ the more the merrier.’ ” 

Miles tingled with excitement at the idea. This 
was surely a different matter from ordinary pri- 
vateering! At first, he couldn’t understand why the 
Comet kept so far away from her prey. Seemingly 
she was running away. Then it came to him that 
the strangers must not suspect the presence of the 
Yankee until it was too late to get back to neutral 
water. 

For a few minutes Miles was kept below to take 
orders from the gunner. When he hurried on deck 
again he found the ship agog over the fact that the 
fourth sail was a man-of-war. 

“ Why didn’t the Swede tell us that there was a 

75 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


British man-of-war in port with the merchantman? 
he asked the boatswain. 

Todd put on an expression of pained and pitying 
surprise. “ Why? ” he repeated, “ ’Cos there wa’n’t 
none. That there man-of-war brig ain’t no English- 
man ; she ain’t smart enough. Look, she’s even more 
sloven in her trim than the merchantmen.” And he 
spat disdainfully. 

Miles squinted in vain to see what the old fellow 
seemed to read so clearly. “ Well, what business has 
any other man-of-war to convoy those ships? ” 

The question was not answered, for Todd, at the 
signal from Bradford, was piping his whistle. The 
wheel went over, the foreyards swung, great belly- 
ing studding-sails broke out on them, and the Comet 
had turned around on her heel and was running be- 
fore the wind under a cloud of canvas for the Eng- 
lish squadron. 


CHAPTER VI 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 

F or the first time Miles heard that thrilling cry, 
“ Clear ship for action 1 ’’ At the command of 
the first lieutenant, Miles went to work with the 
crews of the first division of guns, helping to cast 
them loose, knocking the tompions from the muz- 
zles, and then piling up supplies of cartridges in 
metal-lined chests near by. The Comet had the new 
American naval cartridges, with the thin lead cas- 
ing, instead of the old-fashioned flannel cartridges 
which were still used by the British navy. The 
Yankee invention was more expensive, but did not 
clog the gun as did the other, and made it possible 
to fire more rapidly. 

Meanwhile, under Todd’s energetic language, 
others of the crew had cleared the deck of every 
movable piece of woodwork or extra rope yarn, 
sprinkled the deck with sand, and hung the yards 
77 . . 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


with chains, so that in case the rope rigging was 
shot away the yards would not fall. Long before 
the privateer shortened sail alongside the man-of- 
war, for whom Boyle had steered, the men stood 
ready at the guns, stripped to the waist, ready and 
eager for the expected fight. 

To Miles all these hurried details of preparation 
for battle were inspiring, and he caught the con- 
tagion of excited anticipation that ran through the 
ship. He turned to with a will, unasked, and 
worked along with the sailors at removing and stow- 
ing the booms, boats, and deckhouses, until the deck 
presented that curiously bare, even surface that meant 
“ cleared for action.” But when the quartermaster 
went about, sprinkling sand on the decks. Miles 
realized for the first time that the phrase “ running 
slippery with blood ” stood for a grim fact, and his 
exultant feelings cooled down. He was not afraid, 
though he remembered Bradford’s taunt, but he 
couldn’t help thinking that it might be his own blood, 
or that of his friends — Gilmor, Lusson, and Todd — 
which would stain the deck before the next sunrise. 
So it was with serious eyes that Miles watched the 
enemy in anticipation of his first battle. 

About seven o’clock the Comet forged alongside 
to windward of the strange man-of-war, and hoisted 

78 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 


the Stars and Stripes. The other replied by flutter- 
ing out the Portuguese ensign, and hailed a moment 
later. Lusson swung himself out on the fore chains 
and conducted a brief parley in mixed French and 
Portuguese. 

“ He says, sir,” reported the officer to Boyle, 
‘‘ to stand by for to take a boat.” 

“ All right,” grumbled the captain, with his eye 
on the merchant ships running away from him, “ but 
that’s the last favor I do him.” 

The schooner shot up into the wind and lay roll- 
ing in the heavy seas while the Portuguese officer 
came on board. Lusson continued to act as inter- 
preter, but the gestures of the Portuguese were so 
graphic that Miles could guess the substance of the 
man’s message before Lusson made his transla- 
tion. 

Alors, he say ze brig ees under orders zese 
English ships to convoy to London; and he cannot 
pairmeet ze Comet to — to interfere. Also, if you at- 
tack zem (zis pig says) ze consequences shall be bad 
for Captain Boyle.” 

“Tell the Dago to cast his dirty eye on that! ” 
replied Boyle, drawing his letters of marque from his 
breast pocket. 

The Portuguese scanned the document for fully 

79 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


two minutes, though he couldn’t read a word of it, 
and returned it with a contemptuous shrug of his 
shoulders and some emphatic language. 

“ He say now,” continued the interpreter, scowl- 
ing darkly, “ eet make no difference. Zose ships is 
armed and heavily manned; his own ship has twenty 
guns, ze ozzers zirty-four, making total feefty-four 
to our fourteen.” 

“ Tell him,” replied Boyle, “ that don’t scare 
me, and if he wants to fire the first gun he can look 
out for the consequences.” 

As the Portuguese officer went back the privateer 
fell off before the wind. Once more a hail came 
from the man-of-war, calling for a boat from the 
Comet. But Boyle replied in terms so emphatic that 
Lusson had great trouble in expurging and translat- 
ing. By this time much precious time had been lost, 
and the merchantmen were far in the lead. But the 
air was clear, and a full moon made their sails 
glimmer almost as brightly as if it had been day- 
light. 

“ Gadsden ! ” shouted Boyle. 

“ Aye, aye, sir.” 

“ Do you think that it would be glory enough if 
we fight all four of those? ” 

“ Aye, sir.” Miles grinning sheepishly, for the 
8o 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 


captain had punctuated his question with a ponder- 
ous wink* 

“ Very well, young man, report to Lieutenant 
Bradford for orders in action.” 

“ Mr. Gadsden,” said that officer when Miles 
reported for duty, “ what we shall want most is am- 
munition and primers in a hurry. Supply the guns 
in this division until further orders.” 

Though Miles had imagined a position of glory 
beside his commander, he had grown wiser and knew 
better now than to make any comment. If a “ pow- 
der monkey ” was what the Comet needed, a powder 
monkey he would be along with the ship’s boys, and 
he hurried down to the gunner in charge of the mag- 
azine. This official explained to him that he must 
cover the cartridge with his jacket so as to keep 
off sparks, and told him to watch his own clothing 
for specks of burning wads, etc., before he returned 
to the magazine. As an additional precaution, the 
gunner had rigged a heavy flap of water-soaked felt 
in the doorway with a slit cut in the middle through 
which he was to serve the ammunition. 

After seeing that the guns of his division were 
well supplied. Miles took a perch on the gunwale 
under the foreshrouds and waited, quivering with 
excitement for the battle to open. About eight 

8i 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


o’clock the swift-sailing Comet began to overtake the 
big English ship, with the two English brigs near by. 

“To quarters! ” shouted Captain Boyle through 
his speaking trumpet, and no one needed to have the 
order repeated. The large crew of the privateer 
made it possible to man the six guns on both port and 
starboard sides at the same time, besides furnishing 
the regular crew at each of the large swivel guns 
amidships. In a twinkling the men were lined up in 
their positions. Miles was one of a few greenhorns 
who did not know where to stand, but he was soon in- 
structed. He found himself, without understanding 
why, standing at attention just behind the breech of 
one of the broadside guns in Bradford’s division. 
As he glanced along the line of the battery he saw 
that the corresponding positions for the other guns 
were filled by the powder boys, and the young men 
who for a chance at prize money in the lucky Comet 
had been content to ship as “ boys.” 

“ This is rubbing it in 1 ” thought Miles ruefully, 
as he reflected on his humble station. But in a mo- 
ment he had to admit that he could do nothing else 
to help and ought to make the best of it. 

On each side of the shining gun stood the gun’s 
crew, heels clicked together at attention, but with 
heads turned and eyes bent on the big English ships. 

82 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 


“ Strike and heave to! ” roared Boyle. “ Strike 
and heave to, or I’ll sink you ! ” 

But the Comet had a tremendous way, and be- 
fore Boyle could get an answer he found himself 
ahead. 

“ I’ll be back presently,” he shouted cheerfully, 
and kept on his tearing course after the two brigs. 
Coming alongside the nearest one he sent the Comet 
up into the wind. 

“ Fire ! ” he shouted. 

“ Fire ! ” echoed every officer to his division. 
Instantly the captain of Miles’s crew, sweeping him 
aside and bidding him stand clear, touched the glow- 
ing end of his slow match to the quill of powder that 
was stuck in the priming hole of the gun. Almost 
at the same instant a jet of flame spurted up from 
the touchhole of every gun on that side and all six 
thundered at once, kicking back viciously with the 
recoil. 

To Miles the concussion of that broadside seemed 
the most terrible sound he had ever heard. Most 
of the gunners, he had noticed, tied their black neck 
scarfs around their ears, and now he saw the reason. 
After the first discharge the guns were fired as 
quickly as they could be loaded and aimed, and 
the engaged side of the Comefs deck showed a 

83 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


line of straining, jumping cannon, thundering con- 
tinuously. As the privateer was to windward, the 
smoke from her fire covered the brig so that 
Miles could not see what damage was done to the 
enemy. 

“Gadsden!” 

Miles awoke to the fact that he was staring ex- 
citedly into the smoke, forgetful of the duties he had 
to perform. When he next appeared on deck, carry- 
ing a double load of cartridges, the Comet came 
alongside the ship which they had passed a little time 
before, this time to leeward. Again there came a 
flash and a deafening thunderclap as the starboard 
broadside smashed into the ship, and a second later 
the port guns were finding a target in the third brig 
which was still farther to leeward. 

Back and forth Miles ran, along with the pow- 
der boys, determined to do his level best for the 
Comet and the flag. The deck was now smothered 
in the smoke of the two discharges, through which 
the battle lanterns burned dimly and the moon was 
seldom visible. Miles saw the red flashes and heard 
the confused roar of the enemy’s guns on both sides. 
The bulwarks near him trembled or broke with the 
blow of solid shot and things whirled by his head. 
A brawny seaman suddenly clapped his hands to his 
84 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION I 


side, stumbled forward a few steps and fell on his 
face. 

Miles had never seen sudden death before, and 
the sight made him sick and faint. 

“ Steady, lad, steady.” It was Todd at his 
elbow. “ You’ll get used to it in a minute.” 

“ Bear a hand here, Gadsden ! ” shouted Gilmor 
the next instant, and Miles turned to see him stand- 
ing by a young fellow who was trying to crawl to the 
companionway with a broken leg. Miles ran to help 
the wounded man below to the little cockpit, where 
the surgeon waited with his instruments in a shining 
row on the table before him. 

“ Bring back some more primers I ” shouted 
Bradford as he saw Miles disappear down the 
hatch. 

Back again on deck with fresh primers. Miles 
saw that the Comet had tacked once more. By this 
time the cannonade had been so continuous that he 
was immediately called upon to help fill the fire 
buckets and dash water on the heated guns. All 
that he could see of the progress of the battle was 
the constant flashing of guns and an occasional 
group of masts and sails above the high walls of 
smoke, but he knew that Boyle was steering in and 
out among the four, fighting all of them at once and 
7 85 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


yet never allowing himself to be surrounded. At 
first it looked like wild confusion to Miles, but, after 
a while, he saw that the British merchantmen were 
trying to dodge about in order to expose the Comet 
to the broadsides of the man-of-war. But Boyle 
cleverly managed it so that while both his broadsides 
were constantly ablaze upon the Englishman, the 
Portuguese was always in danger of firing upon 
some vessel of his convoy in attempting to hit the 
Yankee. 

At midnight one of the English ships hailed to 
surrender, her captain crying out that she was ready 
to sink. There was a lull in the uproar as Lieuten- 
ant Bradford with a boat’s crew went to take pos- 
session. Suddenly, the Portuguese man-of-war ap- 
peared, and without warning poured a broadside 
upon the little boat. Had the aim been good, the 
cutter would have been a mass of splinters ; but even 
as it was, she was so badly damaged that the survi- 
vors got her back to the Comef s side only with the 
greatest efforts. That blow cost Boyle five good 
men ; and white with rage, he steered straight for the 
meddlesome Portuguese, letting fly with every gun 
that bore. 

At such close quarters the fight could not last 
long. While it continued, it seemed to Miles as if 
86 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 


there was a steady rain of shot and splinters. Sud- 
denly, he saw Gilmor struck on the head by a flying 
block. The young officer whirled around and 
dropped like a log. 

“ Stand by, Gadsden I ” cried Boyle, as Miles 
started toward Gilmor. 

“ Aye, aye, sir! ” 

As Gilmor’s limp figure was carried below. Miles 
took the vacant station and thereafter shouted 
Boyle’s orders to Todd. To transmit orders ac- 
curately, some of which he did not understand, was a 
task calling for coolness and promptness. All the 
while. Miles was in an agony of suspense as to the fate 
of Gilmor. Again and again he had to duck to avoid 
flying splinters, and once he nearly fell when a sear- 
ing pain cut across his thigh. Binding up the wound, 
with his scarf, however, he went on with the orders 
without interruption. 

In fifteen minutes, the Portuguese had had more 
than she wanted and beat a hasty retreat. Then 
Boyle ran his ship alongside the nearest brig, which 
promptly surrendered. There was one more brig 
to be accounted for to make the victory complete, 
and that was far in the lead, running away. Deter- 
mined to get them all, Boyle cracked on sail in chase, 
and Miles kept his station, unwilling to ask to be re- 

87 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


lieved till the fight was over. But as soon as the 
brig was caught up with, she surrendered without 
another shot. 

Unfortunately for the Comet, shortly after she 
had overhauled the Bowes — which was the name of 
the last vessel captured — the wind chopped around 
so as to give the two Englishmen left behind a fair 
wind back to Pernambuco. By this time, too, the 
moon had set in clouds and nothing whatever could 
be seen of these two. The Americans stood by their 
prize, anxiously awaiting the dawn. 

Meanwhile, Miles remained on duty, but as soon 
as Boyle allowed him to leave his station, he limped 
below to find Gilmor. Fortunately, the little cock- 
pit was not crowded, and some were already leaving 
with their arms in slings or their heads bound with 
blood-stained bandages. 

“How’s Mr. Gilmor?” asked Miles anxiously 
of Doctor Banks. 

“ Able to speak for himself, thank you,” feebly 
replied that young man, who was lying in a dark 
corner with his head swathed in bandages. “ Some- 
thing knocked me into dreamland up there.” 

“Pipe down,” growled the surgeon; “let me 
look at that leg of yours, Gadsden.” 

Miles had his wound washed and dressed — a 

88 


CLEAR SHIP FOR ACTION! 


flesh wound more painful than serious — and dropped 
to sleep on the planks beside Gilmor. 

Late the following morning, he climbed pain- 
fully to the deck where Gilmor had preceded him. 
He found the Comet running off the harbor of Per- 
nambuco with the Bowes trotting obediently in her 
wake. But safe from the privateer’s clutches he 
could see the other two English vessels, shattered in 
rigging and hull and listed badly, creeping to cover 
in neutral waters, while the man-of-war limped 
slowly in their wake. 

Boyle was pacing back and forth with vexation 
written on his face. “ Well, lads,” he said, his face 
brightening as he saw the two friends, “ I hope ye 
are not hurted much? That was a pretty little 
rumpus last night, eh? We have only one prize in- 
stead of three, but we stove ’em up a bit, anyway. 
I’d go a thousand miles to finish what I have to say 
to that Portuguese.” And he laughed with boyish 
delight. 

Miles did not realize that the “ pretty little 
rumpus ” had few parallels on record, but he knew 
that it was a splendid battle and he was proud to 
have borne a part in it. 

On examination, the Bowes proved to be much 
less injured by the guns of the privateer than any 

89 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


of the other vessels in that four-to-one fight, and 
with her hull full of wheat, she was a prize well 
worth taking back to Baltimore. Accordingly, 
after Boyle saw the other merchantmen disappear 
into the harbor he headed the Comet north, signaling 
the Bowes to follow in her wake. 


CHAPTER VII 


TODD SPINS A YARN 

D ull days succeeded the exciting night of the 
battle, though for a time the work of putting 
the ship to rights furnished plently of occupation for 
officers and men. Finally, however, the ship’s car- 
penter finished his repairs, the quartermaster an- 
nounced that all the scrubbing and swabbing had 
been properly done, and Todd was satisfied that the 
rigging was shipshape alow and aloft.” In re- 
pairing the cut rigging. Miles was allowed to assist 
and practice his newly learned splices under the 
boatswain’s critical eye. When the ordinary ship’s 
routine followed. Miles found not much to do even 
when on watch, and the broiling tropical sun made 
him content to sit still much of the day and listen to 
the yarn-spinning among the sailors. 

One blazing hot day, when the Comet was 
barely slipping through a glassy sea, he made up 
his mind to hunt the old boatswain down and not 


91 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


let him escape until he had told the story of the 
maimed ear. 

He had tried a number of times to corner Todd 
and wheedle out of him the story of the lost ear, but 
all his efforts had come to naught. The many calls 
upon the boatswain, due to the fact that his position 
was an active and responsible one, gave him oppor- 
tunities to evade the issue. By suddenly discovering 
imperative calls to duty, he had blocked Miles’s ef- 
forts so far; but the latter finally managed to concoct 
a plan that seemed likely to succeed. He remem- 
bered that Todd had hinted once that the ear had 
been lost in the battle between the Bon Homme Rich- 
ard and the Serapis. Knowing that the boatswain 
was proud of the fact that he was one of the heroes 
of the great fight. Miles concluded that it would be 
easy to get him to tell the story of the battle, and 
trusted that, along with the details, he would find 
the tale of the missing ear. He decided to use a 
certain amount of guile and diplomacy in dealing 
with the old man. 

Finding the old fellow alone, he skillfully drew 
him into a discussion of the great fight by pretend- 
ing to believe that the Bon Homme Richard* s com- 
mander deserved but a small part of the credit for 
the victory over the Serapis, It had been the fight- 
92 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


ing qualities of the crew that had decided the issue 
of the day, he contended, not the personal qualities 
of Paul Jones. As the old fellow hadn’t visited the 
lee rail for a full three-minute period, his mouth was 
too full for utterance, but, at this statement, almost 
blasphemous according to the old bos’n’s notions, he 
became almost purple, and after a rush to the taffrail 
and a frantic spurt to “ loo’ard,” he came back with 
the light of battle in his eye. 

“W-wot?” he sputtered, “ w-wot’s that I’m a- 
hearin’ ye say ? ‘ Fightin’ qualities o’ the crew ’ ? 

Well for the love of Chinese gods and little measly 
fishes, did ye ever hear such lubber’s langwidge! 
Why, bless my bloody bights and bobstays — but a-beg- 
gin’ yer parding, I was most a-cussin’ an’ I thought 
I was free from that vice intirely fer evermore ! But 
dog-bite my futtock shrouds — this here talk o’ yourn 
do beat all creation ! Why, by-by jimminy crickets 
— beggin’ yer parding, I ain’t a-goin’ ter cuss, sir, 
but ” 

“ Oh, go ahead — relieve your feelin’s, Todd, 
you don’t hurt mine,” said Miles, secretly elated at 
the old man’s perturbation. “ I can appreciate your 
feeling a little hurt because I don’t think Paul Jones 
is as big a man as you do, and I am willing to be 
convinced that he is the greatest fighter that ever 
trod a deck if you can give me the facts to prove it.” 
93 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ I am just the bucko to do that thar selfsame 
thing, an’ hopin’ you’ll excuse me fer sayin’ it, me 
bein’ old enough ter be yer gran’sire. I’ll take the 
liberty uv remarkin’ that it’s gol-a-a-awful shame 
that there’s any boy with good American blood in 
his veins that don’t know wot sort uv a man Paul 
Jones wuz ’thout it a-takin’ a hour a-tellin’ of it to 
him I ” 

Miles was inwardly chuckling. “ I have him 
under weigh with all sails set,” he thought. So he 
suggested that they climb to the maintop, where there 
would be no interruptions, and have the matter out. 
Todd readily agreed, but declared that he “ must 
get everything in shipshape fust,” as “ he was a-goin’ 
ter settle this here subjec’ once fer all an’ evermore.” 
He called to a brawny, swarthy bos’n’s mate, the 
length of whose queue had often attracted Miles’s 
attention: “Here you — Brad Hays! You long- 
tailed lascar, keep yer eyes peeled while I go aloft 
to explain some pressin’ matters to the young gentle- 
man.” The mate looked curiously at the pair, feel- 
ing that “ there was something in the wind,” and 
Miles gave him a wink that the old bos’n al- 
most intercepted as Hays turned and rejoined the 
men he had been engaged with when summoned by 
Todd. 

“They’re weaving a sword-mat, aren’t they?” 

94 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


Miles asked pleasantly of Todd as they started to- 
ward the shrouds. 

“Not by forty fathom! They’re makin’ uv a 
panch,” he said shortly. 

“What’s a panch! — never mind, let’s settle this 
Paul Jones business,” said Miles, and Todd grunted 
sourly. 

When they were ensconced in comfortable posi- 
tions on the top, the old man remarked that he 
thought he could “ clear the rail,” and tried an ex- 
perimental spurt before deciding that he had secured 
a suitable spot for spinning a long yarn. That the 
trial was a success as a rangefinder Miles could 
see by the brown cat’s-paw that appeared ten feet 
out from the ship’s side. So he settled down to 
listen. 

“ There ain’t no use in wastin’ no time in circum- 
navigation,” began Todd; “you know enough about 
this here battle to know that the six ole eighteen- 
pounders to the Richard^ s lower gun-deck battery put 
’emselves out o’ business almost at the first fire. They 
was a lot o’ old pieces o’ scrap-iron wot had been 
condemned as fit fer nuthin’ by the French navy an’ 
had been mounted in the Richard at I’Orient. Well, 
anyhow, they only belched eight shots. Two of ’em 
busted into smithereens at the fust fire an’ killed nigh 
95 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


every man in the two gun crews, besides heavin’ up 
the main gun deck that was over ’em and skeerin’ 
everybody in the after part of the ship into duck fits. 
Night was just a-comin’ on an’ a big, full moon was 
climbin’ the sky. We had a smooth sea an’ we 
couldn’t a made a better night fer a fight. We wuz 
trottin’ along about a cable’s length from the Serapis 
an’ givin’ her merry old Nick, while her metal was 
a-crashin’ into our vitals almost continuous. Putty 
soon two or three of our twelve-pounders on the 
gun deck was dismounted or crippled an’ shots an’ 
splinters was a-flyin’ everywhere. I was on the 
quarter-deck, where a batch uv us had been stationed 
with muskets by the commodore, an’ I say to you I 
never see sich broadsidin’ in my life. 

“ It was gittin’ along toward eight bells an’ we 
had been bangin’ away fer sump’n over half a hour 
when we begun to notice that the Serapis was workin’ 
in closer to us, and I seen that she was a-tryin’ to luff 
athwart our hawse. The Britisher, after our French 
guns blew up, could throw half ag’in as much metal 
as we could, but we had more marines; so we were 
givin’ ’em merry Hades with the musketry. Cap’n 
Pearson must have seen that if he kep’ on, the Rich- 
ard would foul him amidships, bows on, an’ then I 
reckon the way our musket fire was a-pepperin’ him 
96 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


had some effec’, fer he boxhauled his ship, paid off 
his bow an’ tried to let her fall off to loo’ard to clear 
the Richard. But her stern swung to and afore she 
could git headway she had run her jib boom into our 
mizzen riggin’. I dropped my musket an’ jumped 
with a dozen others to the larboard rail an’ we 
throwed grapnels into the Serapis^s backstays. The 
hooks caught, but, dog it, the lines parted an’ the 
Britisher fell off. I jumped back for my musket 
and saw Billy Lowes, a shipmate from my old town 
wot I had knowed sence he wasn’t any higher ’n that 
there capstan — I seen Billy pickin’ up my gun. 
‘ Gimme my musket, you swab ! ’ I says, ‘ there’s 
your gun over there.’ Well, as I says that, down he 
pitches right on his head an’ rolls down off the poop 
deck ’fore I could ketch him. I seen him land in a 
mess of blood an’ sand when a round shot came a- 
crashin’ through the rail, bringin’ a hammock with it 
an’ knockin’ Billy’s body halfway acrost the deck. 
Course, I was sorry about poor Billy, partickler ez I 
had just called him a swab ; but it was hot times, an’ 
I grabbed my gun an’ turned her loose at the port- 
hole of a eighteen-pounder that seemed to belch a 
extry lively fire. 

“ Just about this time I seen the commodore go 
below; and Red Jerry, a Indian that was port fire on 
97 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the gun deck, told me afterwards that Cap’n Jones 
come down near where he was tendin’ the slow 
match waitin’ to tetch off the gun when she was laid, 
an’ he says — ^which is to say, Gap’n Jones says, 
speakin’ to Leftenant Dale — ‘ Dick, his metal is too 
heavy for us I He’s hammerin’ us to pieces. We’ve 
got to get hold of him. Be prepared to leave this 
deck, an’ when I give the order, bring what men you 
have left on the spar deck, and give ’em small arms 
for boardin’ when you come up ! ’ 

“ Well, I was a-wonderin’ wot was up an’ wishin’ 
the commodore’d come back, as the very sight of 
him give me more stomach fer the fight, when I seen 
Cap’n Jones come a-bouncin’ up the ladder an’ a 
minute afterwards I seen him say sump’n’ to his 
orderly, John Downes, an’ then turn to his other 
orderly, Gerard, a Frenchman, an’ point an’ say 
sump’n’ to him. You know he had two orderlies so 
that he could git orders to the French part of the 
crew just the same as to his Yankees. He could 
speak both langwidges, but you see he couldn’t be 
everywhere even if he was Paul Jones. But to git 
back to my story: In a minute or so I seen the men 
from the gun deck come tumblin’ out with cutlasses 
an’ pikes an’ muskets crazy to get at the Britishers 
an’ glad to get out o’ the death trap where they had 

98 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


been a-fightin’ ’thout the relief o’ seein’ wot was 
goin’ on. The place they had left was a reg’lar 
shambles. Why, lad, on one o’ the guns o’ the 
for’ard starboard division there had been nineteen 
differ’nt men, an’ when the order came to tumble out 
only one uv her ’riginal crew was left an’ that was 
little Red Jerry, the Indian. 

“ The distance between the ships wasn’t more’n 
a biscuit’s toss by this time, an’ the commodore was 
crazy to make it less. If the Serapis got one more 
breakaway, on either tack clear of the Richard, 
where she wouldn’t be afeard uv the grapnels, she 
could bring her lower tier o’ eighteen-pound barkers 
into play and the Richard would go to Davy Jones’s 
locker. Just about this time I heard a roar on our 
port quarter, an’ there was that French hound Lan- 
dais, with our pardner ship, the Alliance, pourin’ a 
broadside o’ solid shot into us! Before we got our 
wits, bang! he sent another crash o’ grape, chain 
shot an’ double headers into our guts. Then he ran 
off out o’ gunshot close-hauled. Well, sir, I was so 
paralyzed I forgot to fire my gun till ’spang! went 
a red-hot pain acrost the side o’ my head an’ I was 
reminded o’ the fact that the Serapis was still alive 
an’ kickin’. 

“ Jest at this moment a lucky little gust hit our 

99 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


sails, while we shut off the wind from the Serapis 
and blanketed her completely. The commodore 
seen it like a flash. He turned an’ screamed a order 
an’ we swung athwart the hawse o’ the Serapis, 
Right here, my lad, I want to tell ye sump’n’ that 
shows what kind o’ commodore Cap’n Jones was. 
I said a ‘ lucky ’ puff o’ wind struck us. Luck alone 
wouldn’t a-done us no good then, fer a spell before 
a shot had carried our wheel away, busted the tiller 
an’ cracked the iron strap that held it to the rudder 
head. But when Cap’n Jones had been overhaulin’ 
the Richard at I’Orient he had fitted a spare tiller 
to the rudder stem where it passed through the gun 
room below an’ had rove give-an’-take tackle to it 
so’s we could steer by hand in case the wheel or the 
main tiller got damaged in action. Well, that 
sharp bit o’ foresight saved us an’ give us our last 
chance o’ lickin’ the Britisher. 

“ The Serapis tried to turn tail and run like a 
chicken with a hawk swoopin’ fer him, but Cap’n 
Jones had swung the Richard round under the Sera- 
pis^s jib boom an’ me an’ Red Jerry an’ a couple o’ 
others bearin’ the commodore yell : ‘ Hold her 
there, my hearties,’ with the turn uv a hawser made 
her fast to the Richard^ s mizzenmast. Then the 
good old Richard scraped along the Serapis* s side 


TOO 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


till the outboard fluke of the Britisher’s starboard 
anchor hooked into our mizzen chains. 

“ In a flash Cap’n Jones leaped forward an’, grab- 
bin’ a rope from a bos’n’s mate, turned three hitches 
with his own hands afore any uv us could get near 
enough to help him. Yes, sir, did it with his own 
hands I I was there an’ I seen ’im I His hat went 
overboard in the excitement an’ Midshipman West 
Linthwaite fetched another hat from the cabin for 
him. ‘ Never mind the hat. West,’ he said laugh- 
in’, ‘ put it back in the cabin ; I’ll fight this out in my 
scalp I I’ve a mind to peel off my coat, too! If I 
could. I’d fight in the buff like the gun-deck hearties.’ 

“ Meantime, the guns of the Serapis was belchin’ 
.shot through our gun deck. But nobody wuz there 
to be bothered. We were all above decks and pour- 
in’ it into ’em with the small arms. They tell me 
that ’leven men dropped at the Serapis^ s wheel with 
musket balls in ’em. Captain Pearson, of the 
Serapis, ordered the ring stopper an’ shank painter 
cut away so as to free him from us, but our com- 
modore wasn’t goin’ to let go his death grip. I saw 
him with his hat off standing on the poop deck yellin’ 
to the French marines in their own lingo an’ makin’ 
’em keep a steady fire on the spot where we’d lashed 
the Serapis^ s anchor. Soon I found myself on the 


8 


lOI 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


poop deck, too, firin’ away, when all of a suddint I 
heerd the commodore yell: ‘Hi, there. Bill Todd I 
Give me that gun quick! ’ Yes, sir, called me by 
name, an’ my word fer it, he could a-done the same 
to any Frenchy or Yankee on the deck. Yes, sir, 
knowed ’em all I I give him the musket an’ I seen a 
British leftenant, that was rushin’ with a ax to cut 
the fastenin’s, stumble an’ fall when my gun roared 
out almost at my ear.” 

“ You didn’t lose it there, did you? ” interrupted 
Miles, who had been thrilled into rapt attention. 

“Lose what?” asked Todd impatiently. 

“ The ear.” 

“ Oh, durn the ear I There was half a dozen 
marines, some French, some Americans, standin’ 
around the commodore loadin’ their firelocks an’ 
handin’ ’em to him when he wanted ’em while he was 
dancin’ around an’ talkin’ to ’em in French and Eng- 
lish both. We had had nigh about enough bad luck 
fer one ship to have to stand, but it looked like there 
warn’t to be no let up in it. Fust them French guns 
blows up, then that crack-brained brute of a French- 
man in the Alliance riddles us. Next we gets so 
many holes below our water line that spite o’ all we 
could do we had five feet o’ water in the hold, an’ to 
make matters worse the flash o’ the SerapWs guns 


102 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


an’ the burnin’ wads come right into our gun deck 
an’ set the wreckage an’ splinters on fire. 

“ John Burbank, the master at arms, thinkin’ the 
ship was sinkin’, opened the orlop hatch an’ turned 
loose over two hundred prisoners what we had below 
decks. When the commodore seen ’em streamin’ 
up an’ found out what had happened he poked his 
pistol right in Burbank’s face an’ pulled the trigger. 
It snapped fire though, so Cap’n Jones jist reached 
out an’ whacked Burbank a rap in the burr o’ the ear 
with the barrel of it an’ laid him out on the deck. 
About fifty of the prisoners had got on deck, but 
Mr. Potter, one o’ the midshipmen, an’ a few uv our 
men with cutlasses stood at the hatch an’ held the 
rest back. The commodore then ordered all the 
prisoners on deck to man the pumps an’ some uv ’em 
grabbed holt, but one uv ’em, a fellow that had been 
cap’n of a ship we’d took at Leith, yelled, ‘ Don’t 
touch the pumps, men, let the Yankee pirate sink I ’ 
Pierre Gerard, Cap’n Jones’s orderly, aimed a pistol 
at him an’ says, ‘You do wot ze commodore orders! 
The Britisher grabbed at the pistol, which belched, 
an’ he fell, deader’n a herrin’. 

“ That took the starch out uv ’em all, an’ Mr. 
Dale soon had ’em at the pumps. All this here was 
in the line o’ putty bad luck, but the wust was yet to 
103 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


come. The two ships had been driftin’ around, 
hanging to each other like a couple o’ bulldogs, 
when up come that devil of a Landais again an’ 
poured another broadside into us. Fust time he raked 
us we got all the shot, but this time he wasn’t 
partic’lar, an’ the Serapis got her share of it, too, 
wich warn’t much satisfaction to us, by the way, we 
was so crazy mad at the hull outrageous business. 
Well, we kep’ pluggin’ away, an’ you know wot hap- 
pened about the commodore tellin’ ’em that he was 
‘ just beginnin’ to fight.’ After he’d yelled that to 
’em he seen old Bard McKinsey standin’ near him 
rammin’ a firelock, an’ he bawls at him : ‘ Hey, Bard, 
old trump, what say you to quittin’? ’ An’ old Bard 
says back at him cheerful like : ‘ There’s a shot left 
in the locker, sir! ’ The commodore laughed as 
happy as a boy. Then a new idea seemed to occur 
to him, an’ he turned to Harry Gardner, who was 
acting gunner, an’ said: ‘ Tell Mr. Fanning to see if 
he can drop a hand grenade through the enemy’s 
main hatch ! ’ Then he watched as Midshipman 
Fanning crept out on the yardarm. Gardner was 
behind him with a slow match an’ back of him was 
Jerry Evans, of Nantucket, an’ Pete Nolte, a Swede, 
each with a bucket of grenades. At the third throw 
Mr. Fanning did the trick, an’ as the crash come the 
104 


TODD SPINS A YARN 


commodore waved his arms and cheered. We 
found out afterwards that the explosion killed an’ 
crippled upward of fifty. It certainly did take all 
o’ the fight out o’ the Serapis, 

“ Well, the end soon come. When Cap’n Jones 
give the order, John Mayrant, spite o’ the fact that 
he was already badly wounded, went over the rail 
with his men. A Britisher jabbed him through the 
thigh and Mayrant sent a pistol ball through the 
sailor’s neck. This was the last man killed an’ it 
was soon all over. Captain Pearson grabbed the 
ensign halyards an’ pulled down the SerapWs colors 
himself. Mayrant turned, an’ seein’ Leftenant Dale 
standin’ on the Richard* s rail, holdin’ onto the main- 
topmast backstay, yelled to him : ‘ Stop firin’. He 
has struck 1 Come on board an’ take possession ! ’ 
Mr. Dale swung himself onto the rail of the Serapis 
an’ after shaking hands with Mayrant, hurried to 
Cap’n Pearson an’ sent him aboard the Richard, 
An’ that’s how it ended.” 

“ Ah-h I ” said Miles in a long-drawn sigh. “ It 
makes a man proud that he’s an American, doesn’t 
it?” 

“ Yes, an’ proud that he has a chance to fight 
under the same flag that waved over the great John 
Paul Jones,” sententiously rejoined Todd. Miles 

105 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


was so absorbed that he was halfway down the 
shrouds before it occurred to him to inquire about 
the fate of the missing ear. 

“ Oh, well, we’ll save that for another time,” 
growled the old fellow, and that was all the satisfac- 
tion Miles got. 


CHAPTER VIII 


MILESES FIRST COMMAND 
HE depressing heat of the tropics rather took 



A the zest from the fencing lessons which Miles 
had continued with Lusson ever since that first day’s 
trial when he was ignominiously disarmed. Lusson, 
however, insisted on Miles’s going through a few 
minutes’ rapid exchange of thrusts and parries every 
evening after sundown when the motion of the 
Comet was sufficiently smooth to let the fencers keep 
their feet. 

The rest of his spare time Miles spent in pursu- 
ing his course in seamanship under old Bill Todd. 
The strange orders that sounded at first like a dif- 
ferent language he began to understand, and to be 
able to repeat intelligently. There was no such thing 
on board as a book on seamanship in those days, for 
that was a science all seamen had in their heads and 
fingers; but Miles used to write out carefully the 
orders for various ship evolutions on loose sheets of 


107 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


paper and pin them together. These he would 
study over by night, so as to be able to meet Todd’s 
searching questions at the next day’s lesson. 

One morning, a week or so after the great fight 
off Pernambuco, Boyle handed Miles the trumpet 
and said in the most matter-of-fact voice: “Take 
the deck, sir I Bring the vessel about on the other 
tack and hold her due northwest.” 

Then he went below. Amidships, seated care- 
lessly on a gun slide, was Bradford, who. Miles 
knew, would watch him sharply. Gilmor and Lus- 
son were below. 

“Go ahead, lad, it’s easy; bowse your thinkin’ 
tacks right down to the bumpkins and show what 
you can do! ” It was Todd speaking in a low tone 
at his elbow. The breath came fast for a minute as 
Miles looked on the bellying sails and the curling 
white caps that raced alongside. Then he stepped 
on the nearest gun slide, and, holding on to the 
shrouds, put the trumpet to his mouth and shouted: 

“ Ready about I Stations for stays I ” 

Todd’s whistle piped and the men scampered to 
the ropes. 

“ Ready! Ready! Hard a-lee, quartermaster I ” 

“ Helm’s a-lee, sir,” was the response from the 
wheel. 

io8 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


“Ease off the fore and jib sheets; overhaul the 
lifts and trusses ! ” 

The head sails flapped as the schooner swung up 
into the wind with a roaring of foam at her bows. 

“ Rise tacks and sheets ! ” shouted Miles, “ haul 
taut, mainsail haul ! ” 

The yards swung smoothly, and then as the sails 
on the main caught the wind, “ Haul well taut! Let 
go and haul ! Right the helm ! ” 

The sails filled, and the vessel keeled gracefully 
over on the opposite tack. 

“ Ease her off a bit, quartermaster ! ” Miles 
continued. “Hold her due nor’west!” 

“ Aye, aye, sir; due nor’west she is! ” replied the 
helmsman, and the evolution was performed. Todd 
gave no sign beyond “ very fair to middlin’, lad,” to 
show that he was satisfied with Miles’s performance. 
But Miles himself was immensely pleased at the feat, 
especially as he was frequently made officer of the 
deck after that day and sometimes with more difficult 
evolutions to perform than a mere change of tack. 
In fact, if it were not for Todd’s merciless criticisms, 
he would have felt quite competent to take the 
Comet all the way back to Baltimore. 

He had his chance as commander, however, 
much sooner than he expected. Two small vessels 
109 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


had been taken, without the firing of a shot, so that 
at the end of a fortnight after the capture of the 
Bowes there were three prizes bowling along in com- 
pany with the Comet, Then, a week later, Boyle 
overhauled a small English schooner bound for Ja- 
maica. Unfortunately, she was sailing in ballast, but 
as she looked like a tight little craft, Boyle decided 
that she was worth taking along. 

“Gadsden!” he called to Miles after the 
schooner had complied with the orders to heave to 
and surrender, “ take four men and go aboard her. 
I depend on you to bring her into port. Keep near 
us and signal if you get into any trouble.” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” cried Miles, trying hard not 
to show how pleased he was. In command of a 
vessel of his own! This was a far better home- 
coming than as a mere supernumerary on the 
Comet, 

“ You see,” added Boyle slyly, “ with Bradford 
and Lusson on the other prizes, Mr. Gilmor here is 
the only other officer I have left, and he’s too valu- 
able to spare. Can you guarantee to bring the craft 
in, think you? ” 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” replied Miles smartly. 

Boyle smiled a little, and Todd observed mildly, 
as if talking to himself: “Only thing I could ever 


no 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


guarantee on salt water is rough knocks. Now 

when I was on the Richard I was ” 

“ Shut up, Todd,” said Boyle with a grin. 

Miles was too excited to notice whether they 
were laughing at him or not. He hastened to pick 
out four men, including the faithful Herk, and sub- 
mitted his list to Boyle for approval. In a few 
minutes he called away a boat, and almost for- 
got in his excitement to say good-by to Todd and 
Gilmor. 

As the cutter shot out from the privateer, he 
heard Todd call out cheerily, “ Good-by, captain! ” 
followed by a laugh from the knot of sailors that 
stood by. Miles pretended not to hear. 

“ When I was on the Richard , called Gilmor 
in Todd’s nasal voice, and Miles, as he took a last 
look, saw Todd turn to protest. On boarding the 
schooner, he found the captain awaiting him. He 
was a man of about forty-five, with more the air of 
a gentleman than could often be found in his station. 
He stepped forward and said stiffly: 

“ I am Captain Tomlinson, of the Lapwing, at 

present the prize of your vessel over there ” 

“ The Comet, Captain Boyle, sir,” replied Miles 
courteously, “ and I am Acting-Midshipman Gads- 
den ordered to take command.” Miles had made 


III 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


up this title for himself on the way across to the 
Lapwing. “ Personally, I regret ” 

“ Well, Mr. Gadsden, it’s the chance of war,” 
said the older man, unbending at Miles’s courteous 
manner, “ but let me tell you this is no unmixed evil. 
The Aeolus^ of our navy, overhauled me three days 
ago and impressed four of my best hands. I have 
only three left and we have been hard put to it even 
in this good weather. It is bad enough to have to 
dodge privateers like yours over there without being 
robbed by the mcn-of-war of your own flag.” 

“ The impressment business is what we are fight- 
ing this war over,” replied Miles. “ If it vexes 
an Englishman, you can imagine how it affects 
us, sir.” 

The discussion was broken off by the immediate 
necessity of making sail. When the Lapwing was 
fairly under way. Miles sought out the Englishman. 
His natural chivalry for a foe in his hands was 
heightened by the fact that he, a lad of seventeen, 
should supersede in command a man of Tomlinson’s 
age. Accordingly, he told him that he would be 
glad to have him retain his cabin quarters and mess 
with him, if he would give parole. Tomlinson 
readily consented to give his parole, and added, after 
thanking Miles for his courtesy, “ Perhaps my longer 


II2 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


experience on the sea may help you before you reach 
port.” 

“ Thank you,” answered the boy, with a feeling 
of annoyance, and then he thought : “ How I wish 
everybody wouldn’t treat me as if I were a green- 
horn. Now that I’ve got the chance. I’ll show them 
that I can sail this schooner as well as anybody.” 

For the first day all went smoothly. A boat- 
swain’s mate from the Cornet^ named Martin, Miles 
appointed sailing master, and the young commander 
had little to do but walk up and down by the wheel, 
wishing that he didn’t look so boyish, but enjoying 
his position of command immensely. The only 
thing that worried him was the fact that the Lap- 
wing was slow. When he turned in, the lights of 
the Comet were far ahead; and when he took the 
deck at sunrise, the privateer was hull down on the 
horizon. 

The sky was covered with a thick haze and the 
wind was blowing half a gale with a promise of 
more. Already the waves were roaring at the 
ship’s bows, and foaming down her lee scuppers. 
As Miles noticed these things, he felt suddenly very 
lonely and inexperienced and wished with all his 
heart that his good friend Bill Todd were not so far 
away. 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ I wonder why the Comet left us so far behind? 
We must try to catch up with her,” he said to the 
sailing master who stood at the wheel. 

“ I don’t think this old tub will ever do it, sir,” 
replied that worthy. 

“ She ought to make better time on this wind,” 
said Miles. “ Can’t we shake out that fore-tops’l? ” 

“ She can,” replied the other dubiously, “ but it 
ain’t only a fresh breeze, it’s blowin’ up trouble. I 
don’t like that sky; and the bottom’s plumb fell out 
of the barometer from the looks of it. See Mother 
Carey’s chickens there? I should advise, sir, reefin’ 
fore and main.” 

Miles remembered that the Comet tore away 
under a great press of sail during that gale at Hamp- 
ton Roads when they ran the blockade, and could not 
see why the Lapwing could not do something like it. 

“ Well,” he said with spirit, “ I won’t reef yet 
awhile, and I’ll shake out that fore-tops’l.” 

Martin looked at Miles with astonishment, but 
he was too well trained to disobey. Reluctantly he 
gave the order, and the foresail went to the top, 
bellying out instantly so that the spar bent like a 
whip. The ship rode more heavily by the head 
than before and took on much more water. Miles 
was no fool, and he realized at once that the sailing 
114 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


master was right; but he felt that it would be a 
humiliation in the eyes of the crew if he ordered the 
sail taken in immediately. 

But the matter was settled for him. In five 
minutes from the time the sail was spread the top- 
mast cracked under a sudden squall and went over, 
a mass of tangled wreckage. A shout arose from 
all hands. Instantly Martin roared orders for right- 
ing ship and clearing the wreckage away, without 
waiting for Miles to speak. Miles realized only 
too well his mistake now and his humiliation in his 
own eyes as well as those of his crew. 

“ Beg pardon, sir,” apologized Martin, we had 
to act quick! ” 

“ You were right, Martin,” said Miles after the 
wreck was cleared away. “ Now order the sails 
reefed as you think best.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir,” replied the sailing master, 
pleased at Miles’s frank confession, “ I don’t like the 
looks of that sky. We are in for dirty weather.” 

Accordingly, double reefs were taken in the fore 
and main sails, a single double-reefed jib did duty at 
the bowsprit, preventer-lashings made fast every- 
thing that was movable, and life lines were rigged 
along the deck. All day the ragged, dirty clouds 
tore across the sky before an ever-increasing wind, 

115 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


and great, leaden seas plunged and seethed over the 
little craft with heavier and heavier blows. The 
messes had to be served cold, for the ship tossed too 
violently to keep a galley fire. Miles scarcely went 
below that day. What little he ate, Herk brought 
to him on deck, where he took counsel of Martin, 
and anxiously watched the increase of the storm. 

“ Nuthin’ for it but to phnt up into the gale and 
try to ride her out,” Martin advised. 

“ All right, order her up,” Miles replied. In 
talking seamanship with Todd, Miles remembered 
the old boatswain’s remark that there was no evolu- 
tion so dangerous as to try to bring a sharp schooner 
up into the wind in a heavy gale, and he watched 
with the deepest anxiety to see what Martin would 
do. 

Scarcely had Miles said “ All right,” when Mar- 
tin ordered all sail taken in but the double-reefed 
foresail. Then, with his eye scanning the huge 
combing waves, he waited. One great roller surged 
and broke, roaring across the Lapwings bulwarks. 
A second and a third followed; then, for a few sec- 
onds, there was a comparatively smooth sea. 

“ Starboard your helm I ” he shouted to the 
helmsman, “ bowse that sheet aft and bowse it 
taut I ” The men who stood ready at the sheet 

ii6 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


hauled with a will. “ Hook the tackle on the clew 
and bowse it almost amidships! Keep the helm 
two and a half points to loo’ard!” The orders 
snapped out like the discharge of a rapid-fire gun. 

As if by magic, the Lapwing swung up almost 
exactly into the wind, but just enough off to keep a 
headway of about two knots. But as the hours 
wore on and the pitiless wind increased, Martin or- 
dered the schooner’s bow as fairly into the eye of 
the wind as the helmsman could jam it. Accord- 
ingly, with all sail taken in but the double-reefed 
foresail, the Lapwing pointed her bowsprit as 
straight toward the running seas as the wheelmen 
could keep her. Hour after hour the little schooner 
staggered up mountainous seas and plunged into vol- 
leys of boiling foam, and the constant roaring of 
wind and water stunned every man into silence. 

During the greater part of the day Captain 
Tomlinson kept the deck, but, having noticed the 
tone in which Miles had thanked him for his offer 
of help, he kept forward where he would not appear 
to be on hand for giving advice. Miles observed 
that he had not been aft since the storm broke. 

“ Captain Tomlinson 1 ” he shouted against the 
storm as he picked his way along the reeling 
deck. 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Aye, Mr. Gadsden,” he replied, going to meet 
him. 

“ You were kind enough to offer your help once. 
I need it desperately now ! ” 

“ You need the help of every man on board,” 
was the answer, “ but I think you are doing all that 
can be done now, except that your negro giant would 
be a good man to keep at the wheel.” 

Herk’s presence gave needed rest to two tired 
men, but even he was unable to hold the wheel. alone, 
for the gale increased with every moment. Darkness 
came on early with a terrible wind and seas that 
every now and then smothered the deck. A sudden 
shift of the wind to the southeast about midnight 
raised a cross sea which made matters worse. Still, 
the Lapwing held herself together staunchly, and as 
Tomlinson found that there was comparatively little 
water as yet in her hold, he expressed the cheerful 
opinion that she would weather the gale yet. 

“ Take a turn in for a few minutes, Mr. Gads- 
den,” he shouted in Miles’s ear after a night-long 
watch. “I’ll keep the deck with Martin; it’s only 
an hour before dawn, and you can’t help matters by 
staying here.” 

“ Thank you,” said Miles, and his face looked 
old and drawn in the light of the binnacle, “ but my 
ii8 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


place as commander of this vessel in weather like 
this is on deck. If we go down, I’ll go down at my 
station.” 

“ The lad is right,” muttered the sailing master; 
and for the next hour nothing was said. It was no 
time for conversation. More than once the wheel- 
men came near being swept away, and, indeed, one 
of the English sailors was saved only by his good 
fortune in being carried bodily against the fore- 
shrouds, to which he clung for dear life. Fortu- 
nately, however, the dread cry, “ Man overboard,” 
was not raised that night. 

Just as the glimmer of dawn made the lanterns 
burn pale. Miles saw a huge wave with curling crest 
running toward the vessel on her port bow. A cry 
arose, “ Hold hard! ” and the helmsmen threw their 
whole weight on the wheel, but in vain. Crash! 
The tons of water smashed on the schooner’s side 
like an avalanche, sending her on her beam ends. 
Fortunately, her foresail split, and she righted her- 
self with a staggering effort. Miles found himself 
clutching desperately to a stay, while the boiling 
surge roared over his head and swept him off his 
feet. 

When he had shaken the water out of his eyes 
he saw that the stanchions on the port side had been 
119 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


crushed and bent, all the boats were smashed or car- 
ried away, part of the lee bulwarks had been torn 
away bodily, and there was a yawning hole in the 
deck where the planks had been broken in. 

Immediately he sent a man to sound the water 
in the hold. “ Four foot, sir, but most of it came 
from topsides,” he reported. 

“ There’s a lot of tarred canvas in the forward 
storehold,” said Tomlinson to Miles, “ which we 
can nail over this broken plank sheer while another 
crew mans the pumps.” 

“ Good! call away your Englishmen for the can- 
vas, and I’ll attend to the pumps.” Miles picked his 
men for the pumps, and, in order to encourage them 
by his example, he was the first to bend his back, and 
sent the water spouting with a will. As the wheel 
of the pump clattered round and round under his 
arms, he thought over all that he could remember of 
what he had read or heard of handling ships in a 
gale. He knew well enough that another such wave 
would send the Lapwing to the bottom. 

“ If we only had a barrel or two of sperm oil,” 
said Tomlinson, “ we could smooth out some of these 
seas, but we haven’t more than a gallon. We’ve got 
to keep her head on somehow.” 

Suddenly Miles recalled the description of a West 


120 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


Indian hurricane that Captain Barney had experi- 
enced and weathered, among the many tales he had 
listened to from that redoubtable sailor. Barney 
had saved his ship, he said, by a sea anchor of his 
own devising. Could Miles remember what that 
was? For a few moments he cudgeled his brains 
as never before in his life. 

“Eureka!” he exclaimed suddenly; and, order- 
ing another man to his place at the pumps, he hur- 
ried aft as fast as he could make his way. 

“ Martin,” he cried, “we’ll rig a sea anchor! ” 
“A sea anchor, sir?” was the perplexed reply, 
“ there ain’t none on board. A sea anchor is a can- 
vas cone bent to a big iron ring — I ” 

“ We don’t need that kind,” broke in Miles. 
“ Captain Barney told me that he saved his vessel 
in a hurricane once by simply running a spar forward 
and spanning it to the foremast.” 

“ Aye, aye, sir. It’s worth trying.” 

“ Jones,” shouted Miles to one of the men, and 
his voice had the ring of decision, “ unlash that 
square-sail boom! You fellows,” to the men at the 
wheel, “ keep her head up as you value your lives, 
while we get this rigged. It’s our last chance.” 

All hands that could be spared, including Cap- 
tain Tomlinson, made their way forward as best 


I2I 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


they could and bent their energies to the task. It was 
only with the greatest difficulty that they got the 
heavy spar properly lashed and hove outboard, for 
every man had to grip hard and brace himself with 
each wave to keep from being swept away. Finally, 
the work was done and the spar lay on the water 
across the ship’s bow. It was a simple contrivance; 
near each end of the spar a hawser was bent and 
made fast to a third, which was spanned to the fore- 
mast. 

The effect was miraculous from the first. Not 
only did the spar on which the Lapwing swung serve 
to keep her head pointed fairly into the wind, but 
it also broke the waves that had hitherto been flood- 
ing her fore and aft. Now she rode the seas like 
a gull, and a few minutes later the crew at the pumps 
gave a cheer when they found that they were be- 
ginning to gain on the water in the hold. 

“ I congratulate you with all my heart, Mr. 
Gadsden,” said Tomlinson. “ We’re safe now, 
thanks to your Yankee sea anchor. By the way, the 
men are pretty much worn out now and I happen to 
know of a barrel of good Jamaica below decks ” 

Miles took the hint, and dispatched Herk below 
to prepare some hot toddy. A few moments later, 
Englishmen and Yankees were drinking each other’s 


122 


MILES’S FIRST COMMAND 


health in tin cups of steaming grog. Miles told off 
some of the crew to get some sleep and then for the 
first time in many hours went below himself for dry 
clothing. Arriving on deck, he sat down in the lee 
of the cabin house on a coil of rope, intending to 
watch the storm out. But when Tomlinson came up 
after a couple of hours’ rest, he found the lad sound 
asleep where he sat. Sending Martin below, he 
stood watch himself till noon. 


CHAPTER IX 


A PRISONER OF WAR 

A S eight bells struck, Miles awoke, greatly mor- 
tified to find that he had slept at all. 

“ Storm’s pretty well blowed out, sir,” said 
Martin, coming aft to relieve Captain Tomlinson, 
and Miles jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes. As he 
looked about, he saw that though the seas were still 
running high, the wind had abated and the sun was 
struggling through the clouds. 

“ I think,” the sailing master added, “ we can 
make sail in another hour or so.” 

Accordingly, early in the afternoon, they fished 
inboard the sea anchor and took the wind with a 
double-reefed mainsail. Miles sent the lookout to 
the foretop to make out if he could find the where- 
abouts of the Comet, but she was nowhere to be seen. 
The following day, when Miles took his bearings, 
he discovered that the Lapwing had blown nearly a 
hundred miles from her course. 


124 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


Still, Miles felt that if he could dodge the block- 
ading fleet on the American coast, he would yet keep 
his promise to Captain Boyle and bring the Lap- 
wing into port with flying colors. 

About noon the following day the lookout re- 
ported a sail to windward. 

“ Looks like a sloop of war or a privateer,” re- 
marked Martin, critically eying the strange bark 
through the glass, “ an’ I believe, sir, a Britisher.” 

Miles crowded on sail and tried to run before 
the wind. But the stranger had evidently no- 
ticed the tactics of the Lapwings for she altered 
her course also, and soon was clearly in chase; 
whereupon Miles ordered the English sailors below 
deck. 

‘‘ If we could only rig another fore-topsail, I 
think we could beat her,” observed Martin to Miles 
when the enemy was seen to be gaining. Together 
they ransacked the Lapwing^s stores, but nowhere 
could they find a spar that could be rigged as a top- 
mast. Miles gritted his teeth in rage as he reflected 
what that rash order of a few days ago was likely 
to cost him. Every stitch of available canvas was 
spread on the little schooner, but she pounded along 
ploddingly, while the enemy gained with every min- 
ute, It was soon clear that capture was only a mat- 

125 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


ter of time, though Miles continued to hope against 
hope. 

By sundown Miles could see the open ports along 
the pursuing ship’s side. A little later, the red flag 
of England went flapping to the gaff, a puff of white 
showed at her bow, followed by a muffled “ boom,” 
and a shot tore across the Lapwings bow, carrying 
away her jib stays. 

It would have been suicidal for Miles to have 
delayed surrender, helpless as he was, and reluc- 
tantly he ordered the Lapwing into the wind. Soon 
the Britisher was shortening sail to await a boat 
which Miles was compelled to send aboard. His 
captor proved to be the British privateer Dolphin^ 
of 12 guns. Miles remembered his careless guar- 
antee to Captain Boyle, and the picture he had 
made for himself of his sailing up the Patapsco in 
his prize, with flags flying and perhaps guns boom- 
ing a welcome from Fort McHenry, as he showed 
the Stars and Stripes over the English Union Jack. 

“ Good-by, Mr. Gadsden,” said Captain Tom- 
linson to Miles as the latter stood at the gangway, 
“ again it’s the fortune of war. I sincerely hope we 
shall meet again, lad.” 

Miles did not dare trust his voice to speak and 
turned his head away to conceal the tears of morti- 
126 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


fication in his eyes. He pressed Tomlinson’s hand 
and stepped silently into the cutter in which he and 
his crew were to be conveyed to the privateer as 
prisoners of war. As Herk came down the lad- 
der the British tars sized him up in open-mouthed 
wonder. 

“ Step light there, nigger,” cried the coxswain. 
“ You’ll capsize us if you ain’t careful ! ” 

“ Yassir,” was the answer, “ jest trim her a little, 
and I’ll walk her lak a cat.” 

Herk kept his promise and Miles’s three sailors 
followed, apparently not much disturbed that the 
fortunes of war should have turned them from a 
homeward cruise to prospects of an English prison. 
They looked with interest at the faces crowding the 
bulwarks of the sloop as they approached her side, 
and one of them, Briscoe by name, called out boldly, 
“ Is this your first prize, my bullies? ” A laugh ran 
along the line, and a young fellow balanced on the 
foreyard answered, “No, nor the last one, either! 
Your little tub’ll do for a bit of flotsam, though! ” 

“ A tub she is,” was the quick retort. “ They 
told us she was English built when we took her in.” 

This sally brought another laugh from the tars 
along the rail, but Miles noticed that the English 
captain relaxed not a whit. This seemed a bad 
127 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


omen, and as Miles stepped aboard he was still more 
unfavorably impressed by the unbending manner of 
the privateer’s commanding officer. Formality was 
to be expected, but the curtness with which he and 
his men were disposed of seemed to promise harsh 
treatment or at least but little liberality aboard ship. 
Herk found an opportunity to say in a hoarse whis- 
per, “ I’d sho’ give a heap to see de Comet come at 
dis yer ship! Yah! yah!” Then he went off 
chuckling, with a crowd of the sailors following, de- 
lighted to have such a strange and entertaining ani- 
mal aboard. 

“You will deliver your arms to Mr. Cooper 
there. He will take you to your quarters,” said the 
captain, and he turned on his heel and gave the order 
to make sail. Miles was taken in charge by a pom- 
pous young officer who showed him his quarters. 
They were in a secluded part of the berth deck, not 
very pleasantly situated, but not quite as cramped 
and uncomfortable as the seamen’s accommodations 
in the forecastle. About him were quartered the 
warrant officers, such as the quartermaster, purser, 
gunner, master at arms, and boatswain. Herk, Mar- 
tin, and the seamen were below in the cable tier, mak- 
ing themselves as comfortable as they could among 
the water casks and the cordage. There they found 
128 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


twelve other American sailors from the Claudia^ a 
Baltimore clipper captured the week before. 

These seamen were allowed but half an hour’s 
liberty every day for air and exercise, but Miles was 
given the freedom of the ship, together with Captain 
Elmer Beard, who had commanded the unfortunate 
clipper. 

This privilege meant a great deal, as Miles found 
it intolerable below decks. The warrant officers, 
with the exception of the gunner, who took a fancy 
to Miles, were very disagreeable and offensive neigh- 
bors. As rough at least as any of the Comefs crew, 
they took delight in humiliating the two Americans 
in every conceivable way. Beard was a man of near 
middle age and rather slight in physique. As a for- 
mer commander, he disdained to exchange repartee 
with his rough neighbors or to do more than bear his 
hardships with dignity. They found much more 
fun in battling an impulsive boy like Miles. They 
liked to see him flush with anger and struggle to re- 
strain his desire to be revenged on his tormentors. 

One night things came to a head. The quarter- 
master, who was the ringleader of the persecutors, 
came down from watch duty at midnight. With 
him he brought a large skid of the filthiest slops that 
could be put together in the ship’s galley, and this 
129 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


he laid under Miles’s hammock. Then he deftly cut 
the hammock lashing so that the sleeper dropped 
fairly into the messy water. 

As Miles struggled out dripping and still dazed 
with the fall, he saw the grinning faces of his tor- 
mentors, and the quartermaster beside him, laughing 
like a hyena. 

“ Get a swab and clean up this mess you’ve made, 
you Yankee whelp! ” he shouted as Miles gained his 
feet. 

“ Here’s one, girlie,” cried the boatswain, ex- 
tending it to the boiling youngster. “ Mop it up 
tidy now 1 ” 

“ I wish you were gentlemen, so that I could 
challenge you — one and all,” Miles said, his voice 
unsteady with rage, “ but I will clean up — for 
you ” 

Here he picked up the skid with such of its con- 
tents as still remained and before the quartermaster 
could duck, he hurled it fairly into his face. Then, 
quick as a flash, he seized the long-handled swab and 
dipping it into the puddle on the deck under the 
hammock, thrust it viciously into the faces of as 
many as he could reach unawares. In a half minute 
the steerage was a pandemonium. Every man was 
tumbling out of his hammock, the quartermaster 
130 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


jumped to his feet sputtering slops and oaths to- 
gether. Beard sprang up, throwing off his usual 
silent disdain of his surroundings, and stood by Miles 
with fists clenched. 

“ Come, get behind my hammock I ” he called, 
taking in the situation. The two got behind the 
hammock where they were protected by a corner on 
one flank and a pile of sea chests on the other. They 
leaped back just in time to avoid the charge of the 
quartermaster, who went for Miles like a mad bull. 
Beard checked him by snatching one of the lanterns 
off its hook and smashing it on that officer’s skull. 
The others came on so fast that they got in each 
other’s way, and the hammock kept them from over- 
whelming the two prisoners in the corner. As they 
tumbled over one another, trying to get the ham- 
mock down. Miles jabbed frantically with his swab 
and Beard threw everything within reach, from a 
pair of boots to a heavy block, into the faces of their 
assailants. 

The end, however, could not be doubtful. In 
another minute the hammock was cut down, the gang 
rushed forward — ^when, suddenly, two brawny figures 
came fighting their way through the group and roar- 
ing a volley of oaths and orders. It was the gunner 
and the master at arms. Attacked thus by their 

131 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


messmates in the rear, the attacking party paused in 
their tracks, though not before Captain Beard lay 
senseless with a bleeding forehead from a return 
blow of the tackle block, and Miles’s swab was 
snapped off short in his hands, while his two arms 
were pinioned back into the corner by the quarter- 
master. 

“ Avast there I ” admonished the gunner, hand- 
ing the quartermaster a cuff on the side of the head. 

The latter dropped Miles and turned savagely 
with a blow that the gunner neatly countered. 

“Avast, both of ye!” shouted the master at 
arms, “ or the first luff will be down and disrate every 
one of you I ” 

The master at arms is the ship’s policeman, and 
while this one had no especial love for the two Yan- 
kees, he had a professional pride in keeping the ship 
orderly. The two men slunk back into their ham- 
mocks and the master at arms turned in also. “ Pipe 
down ! ” he warned. “ Though if you two have 
anything to say, man to man, say it quick ! ” This 
to the quartermaster and gunner who still faced each 
other with hostile looks. 

“ Aye, I’ll say this,” spoke up the burly gunner, 
“ I’m sick of seeing you bullies pickin’ on this boy. 
He’s fought you all like a man to-night, and the next 
132 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


man that wants to make trouble with him will make 
trouble with me, d’ye hear? ” This was said for 
the benefit of all, but the speaker’s eye was fixed on 
the quartermaster. “Want any more fight?” he 
added, stepping nearer. He overtopped his man by 
four inches, and the latter can be excused perhaps for 
retiring as he did at discretion, by postponing the 
fight “ till another time.” 

Meanwhile, Miles and Captain Beard — who had 
come to after a dash of water — washed their bloody 
hands and faces and turned in. 

The gunner was as good as his word. He cham- 
pioned the cause of the prisoners, and the other men, 
being true English in their appreciation of pluck, 
thereafter left Miles and Captain Beard alone. 

Miles, who was naturally of a frank, friendly 
disposition, soon became a favorite with the kind- 
hearted gunner and would have made friends with 
all on board if he could; for he had no books, the 
Dolphin was a cramped little ship, the voyage tedi- 
ous, and more companionship would have been wel- 
comed. But he found the attitude of the officers 
contemptuous and forbidding. A little incident that 
occurred made him realize his position as prisoner 
very keenly. While he was chatting with the gun- 
ner who was explaining to him a new-fashioned gun- 

10 133 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


lock, the captain came up and said sourly, evidently 
designing that Miles should hear: 

“ See that the prisoners are kept forward of the 
mainmast in the future.” 

The order was given to his first mate, who sa- 
luted and turned to carry out the order. Miles, 
however, had not waited to be ordered forward, but 
had turned and walked rapidly to the forecastle. 
There he met Captain Beard and told him of the in- 
cident. 

“ Well, don’t let that worry you, Gadsden. It’ll 
not be long till you have a taste of real prison life 
under a fiend who is ten times as much of a brute as 
this fellow. When they send us to Dartmoor, as 
they probably will, you’ll have to deal with Short- 
land, the commandant, who is said to be the meanest 
hound that ever drew the breath of life.” 

“That’s a jolly prospect!” laughed Miles; 
“ let’s hope that our exchanges will come soon.” 

“ Hope all you like, you’ll have lots of time to 
spend doing that. But we may be there years, if 
the war lasts.” 

“ Speaking of exchanges, did you know that my 
father was captured last November? I suppose he 
is on his way safely home by this time, if not already 
back?” 


134 


A PRISONER OF WAR 


“Was your father a privateersman?” 

“ Yes, commanded the Eagle of twelve guns.” 

“ Well, most of us sooner or later get nabbed by 
some man-of-war,” sighed Beard dolefully, “ and 
the worst of it is that I can’t be hopeful for ex- 
change.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because Commodore Rodgers holds a number 
of prisoners as hostages for the proper treatment of 
some Americans they threatened to hang as traitor- 
ous British subjects. Since that row, there’s been no 
exchange.” 

“ When was that? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know just when exchanges 
stopped; perhaps your father had time to get away 
beforehand. Let us hope so ! ” 

“ Oh, I’m sure he must have ! ” cried Miles, but 
his tone and expression were not so confident as his 
words. 

Beard shrugged his shoulders resignedly, but 
said nothing; and Miles began to fear that even then 
his father was still lying in an English prison. 

“ You certainly are a Job’s comforter, to-day,” 
he laughed to Captain Beard, determined not to be 
discouraged till he had to. But Beard’s words 
made him keep his eyes fixed on the horizon, hoping 
135 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


that he might see a rescuing sail. Often, during the 
days and weeks that followed, Miles amused Captain 
Beard by insisting that the day could not pass with- 
out a rescue. One morning he described the scene 
that would ensue if Boyle should appear with the 
Comet, 

“ Why not have a man like Captain Hull with 
the Constitution? said Beard. “ Wishing is cheap.” 

“ No, sir I ” said Miles, “ Captain Boyle and the 
Comet would be enough. It would take him about 
fifteen minutes to put the Stars and Stripes on that 
gaff.” 

“ Land ho 1 ” came the cry from the lookout. 
When the boatswain passed. Miles asked what land 
had been sighted. 

“ Good old England,” was the answer. “ That 
thar’s the Lizard.” 

By nine o’clock that evening the Dolphin had 
anchored in Plymouth Harbor. 


CHAPTER X 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 
S the anchor splashed into the dark water, 



JL X Miles reflected gloomily on what might be in 
store for him. He looked with homesick feelings 
at the lights of Plymouth town as they blinked 
through a pouring rain. To his side came the quar- 
termaster with an ill-tempered grin. 

“ Mr. Gadsden will get his kit and take it to the 
cutter at the gangway,” he said. “ All prisoners 
are to be taken ashore.” 

Miles complied as hurriedly as possible. He 
took his place in the boat where he found Captain 
Beard, Herk, and the other prisoners already seated. 
In the cold drizzling rain they were a dismal-look- 
ing lot. 

“ Good-by, Mr. Gadsden I ” called the gunner 
standing in the fore chains waving his hat. 


“ Good-by,” cried Miles heartily, “ good luck to 
you ! ” 


137 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ The Yankee prisoners will keep their mouths 
shut,” said the young third mate, who was in charge 
of the boat, as the men gave way. 

For the first time Miles realized what it meant 
to be a prisoner. He bowed his head in assumed 
humility, but said in an undertone: “I’d give a 
good American dollar to have that young jacka- 
napes’ head in chancery under my left arm.” Cap- 
tain Beard smiled and Herk guffawed in unre- 
strained delight. 

“ The next man that opens his mouth I’ll have 
beaten over the head with an oar ! ” screamed the 
mate, but the prisoners only grinned at him in de- 
rision. 

On reaching the wharf, they were turned over to 
the tender mercies of an army officer who stood 
ready to receive them. As Miles came up and gave 
his name on demand, the officer, whose temper was 
clearly spoiled by this night’s duty in the rain, cursed 
him foully for a rebel dog. Miles’s own temper was 
none too even after the treatment he had received. 
Glancing around first, he drew back and, with all his 
might, drove his five knuckle bones into the officer’s 
eye. That dignitary sprawled on his back in a 
puddle, hitting his head on a cobblestone with such 
force as to make him careless of passing events. 

138 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


Fortunately, it was very dark in the street and the 
boat from the Dolphin had already started back. 
Miles was surrounded by his own men and the pros- 
trate officer was not discovered for some minutes. 
Meanwhile Miles and his fellows had lost them- 
selves in the herd of prisoners in the square, who had 
been gathered from two other ships anchored in the 
harbor. Apparently, nobody thought enough of the 
stunned officer to take the trouble of going through a 
batch of three hundred to find out who struck him, 
for, after a little waiting, the prisoners were divided 
into batches of about thirty each and packed into 
large covered wagons that stood in line in a street 
at one end of the square. 

Then, about midnight, the processions of wagons 
began to move, flanked by lines of mounted infantry. 
Miles found himself packed in so closely that he 
could hardly stir. It was pitch dark and he could 
recognize no one about him. “ Is any one here 
from the Lapwings crew?’’ he asked. After a si- 
lence one of the men replied that he and his mates 
were from the privateer Rattler, At this point a 
sergeant thrust his head into the wagon and told the 
occupants to keep quiet. 

Miles had hoped that Captain Beard or some of 
his own men would be with him, Martin, for ex- 
139 


THE YOUNG TPRIVATEERSMAN 


ample, and especially his faithful Herk, but they 
had become separated soon after getting into the 
square. The going had been terribly rough in the 
streets of Plymouth; but, once on the country roads, 
the experience was beyond description. English 
country roads in 1813 were almost as bad as 
plowed fields, and a long winter rain made the one 
Miles was traveling a deep slough, with sudden holes 
as soon as they came into the region of the moors. 
Miles had no idea where he was going, but the ex- 
perience of that night was one he could never forget. 
As the springless wagons lurched, and jumped, foot 
by foot, their occupants were thrown against each 
other or against the timbered sides. Some of the 
prisoners were just recovering from their wounds 
and, naturally, in many of these cases the fearful 
jolting reopened the wounds. Every hour or two 
the line halted, and Miles could gather from what 
he heard that in several cases it was not only to rest 
the horses but to remove the bodies of those who 
had died, which the soldiers threw into the morass 
without ceremony. Nor was the roughness of the 
trail the only evil. A great many of the men 
were thinly dressed, and they lay in rain-soaked 
clothes cut by a wind that fringed the dripping 
edges of the wagon top with icicles. The men on 
140 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


the outside exposed to the wind and rain suffered 
greatly. 

“ I’m goin’ to drop out and die on the road,” 
groaned one, “ I’ve got the chills again. It’s the 
old fever cornin’ back.” 

“ Keep your heart up, lad,” said the man oppo- 
site him. 

“ Here I ” cried Miles, I have a pea-jacket on 
and you can crawl in here amidships where you’ll 
get warm. I’ll sit outside. Make way for us, 
men!” With great difficulty, because of the jolt- 
ing and lurching of the wagon. Miles crawled out 
of his place and got the fever-stricken sailor in his 
seat. 

“ Thankee, sir, it’s my brother,” said the other 
man simply. He was a big Gloucesterman with a 
voice like a foghorn. The guard called for silence 
again and the cart load jolted on without another 
word. 

The cold rain turned to sleet which stung Miles’s 
face like needles; masses of his hair clotted with ice, 
and he had to slap his fingers and thighs to keep 
from becoming utterly numb. It was hard to avoid 
despair, with nothing to look forward to at the end 
of this awful trip but an equally awful prison. 
Clearly, the same thought weighed down the heads 
141 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


of all the poor wretches around him, for nothing 
but suppressed groans and muttered curses were heard 
the whole night through. 

“ If we could only talk or sing — something could 
be done to cheer up the fellows,” thought Miles, 
seeing by the early gray of dawn the drooping 
figures beside him. As for himself, he kept up his 
spirits by the recollection of the blow he had dealt 
the foul-mouthed officer in Plymouth. His teeth 
chattered and he was cramped and sore, but he man- 
aged to grin every time he saw, in his mind’s eye, 
that sprawling figure, and heard the “ smack ” of 
his fist against the pudgy face. 

The ride to Dartmoor from Plymouth covers 
only fifteen miles, but from the long hours spent on 
the road it seemed to Miles more than fifty. Fi- 
nally, at dawn of that winter morning. Miles saw 
from his outside perch the forlorn destination. 

Imagine a circular pen — a mile in circumference 
— with three walls containing a dozen prison yards 
and some stone buildings. Around the walls lay 
the treacherous swamps of the moor, shut in by low 
hills. Not a tree — not a house — the dreariest pros- 
pect imaginable in the drizzling rain. 

“ Get out, and be quick about it ! ” 

They were now in the yard. At the order the 
142 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


men tried to follow both instructions, but in some 
cases were not even able to move. About twenty- 
five were carried direct to the hospital under the di- 
rections of the surgeon; the rest climbed out slowly 
and painfully. Miles, stiff and sore with cramps 
and bruises, could barely walk ; but he was stimulated 
to do his best by a prick of a bayonet in the calf of 
his leg. 

He soon found himself herded into a yard that 
was surrounded by a high stone wall and contained 
a prison house. A turnkey met the batch and, 
with small ceremony, shoved the men into the 
quarters they were to occupy. Miles, with a few 
others, was bundled into a barrack room on the 
fourth floor. A dirty straw mattress was assigned 
to him. 

“ Don’t you have different quarters for officers?” 
asked Miles. 

“ What are you? ” replied the turnkey curtly. 

“ Midshipman on the privateer CometJ* 

“ Privateer? ” sneered the official, ‘‘ if we had a 
worse room you’d get it. ^Midshipman on a priva- 
teer! ’ ” and he laughed scornfully. 

“ Who’s this young cockerel that don’t want to 
mess with us?” growled a big prisoner. You’d 
think we was niggers, to hear him talk.” 

143 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Oh, dry up, you bilgy swab ! ” roared a voice, 
before Miles could formulate a defense. “ Don’t 
you know cabin from fo’c’slc? ” 

Miles turned with surprise to hear a voice in his 
behalf and recognized the Gloucesterman with whose 
sick brother he had exchanged places on the trip to 
the prison. Miles gave him a look of gratitude, and 
said after an effort at self-control, “ I meant no of- 
fense, and I don’t want to quarrel with a fellow- 
countryman.” 

The bully who hoped to wreak his ill-nature on 
the lad evidently changed his mind when he looked 
on Miles’s burly defender, for he “ dried up,” as 
requested. 

Never had Miles felt so depressed as he did this 
first day in Dartmoor prison. It was hard enough 
to look out on high walls, the five gates between the 
cell and liberty — and then, beyond, the treacherous 
bogs, which would probably finish whoever escaped 
the muskets of the sentinels. But he knew that 
the war must end some time, and that would 
mean liberty. The wearing part was the condi- 
tions of the prison life which had to be endured 
meanwhile. 

Miles soon learned, that by some official dis- 
honesty, clothing and fuel had not been supplied to 
144 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


the prisoners during that winter. He himself, ex- 
pecting to dry his clothes on getting to Dartmoor, 
had to be content with having his clothes dry on his 
body the day after his arrival. Others less robust, 
and with fewer clothes than he, suffered terribly. 
The hospital was so crowded that those who were 
not desperately ill were treated in their quarters. 
The men tried to keep warm during those raw Feb- 
ruary days by all kinds of rough labor and games in 
their pens during the day and by crowding close to- 
gether at night. 

But the cold was for Miles the least evil. He 
was herded with the roughest sailors, many of whom, 
after long imprisonment, had given up the effort to 
keep clean. Many of these were the scum of the 
various seaport towns, who had gone privateering 
for sheer love of booty, and were kept in subjection 
only by the fact that the majority of the prisoners 
represented a better element. Miles learned that 
at first some of these ruffians turned so savagely on 
their own officers who were imprisoned with them 
that the British soldiers had to be sent in to the res- 
cue. Shortly before Miles saw Dartmoor, a better 
class of men were brought in, most of them men 
who, having been impressed on British men-of-war, 
had refused to fight against their country and chosen 

145 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


imprisonment instead. These organized a rough con- 
stitution and court of justice to keep order among the 
whole body of prisoners. 

It was lucky for Miles, however, that he had 
won the friendship of the big Gloucesterman, for his 
roommates were only held in check by the fisher- 
man’s tremendous fist. After one or two brief bouts 
with his champion, Miles’s neighbors left the boy 
alone. In a sense. Miles could avoid contact with 
the vile characters he herded with, but there was 
no avoiding the physical uncleanness of the place. 
Foul air, foul bedding and quarters, and Inde- 
scribable vermin made him wonder at first if he 
shouldn’t go crazy before a week of It was 
over. 

Two or three days after Miles’s arrival, the ex- 
posure and rough food laid him on his back almost 
sicker In mind than body. It was then that he 
learned to appreciate the character of Doctor Mc- 
Grath, the prison surgeon. When he discovered 
Miles’s condition, after administering his medicine, 
he chatted In the most friendly and cheerful way Im- 
aginable, told some funny stories of the prisoners, 
and left him feeling that there was, after all, one 
friendly heart even among the prison authorities. 
Others besides Miles blessed the hard-working sur- 
146 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


geon, but for whose constant labor and contagious 
good spirits many a poor fellow would have gone 
under in despair. 

When Miles was finally told by Doctor McGrath 
that he was well enough to dispense with a physi- 
cian’s attendance, he was actually sorry to hear the 
news, as the doctor’s visits had been the only bright 
spots in those dreary weeks. But, as he remembered 
the miseries of those around him, he felt ashamed of 
even a moment’s selfishness and determined that as 
soon as he was a little stronger he would try to emu- 
late the cheery doctor in his work of brightening the 
lives of the wretches about him. 

On regaining his feet, Miles took a careful sur- 
vey of his prison. The circular space, containing 
about eight acres, was divided off into three big par- 
titions by diagonal walls, with a so-called “ market 
place ” in the middle. Seven prison buildings with 
smaller inclosures led off from this open place in the 
center. The whole was inclosed by a twenty-foot 
wall, on the top of which sentries paced with loaded 
muskets. During the day the prisoners had consid- 
erable freedom within the walls, and could pass and 
repass through the little connecting gateways from 
one prison house to another or into the “ market 
place.” In fact, all hands were turned into this for 

147 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


exercise from eleven in the morning to two in the 
afternoon. At night, however, there were sentries at 
every gateway and no intercourse was allowed be- 
tween the different prison houses. 

As Doctor McGrath explained the system to 
Miles, the latter cheered up a good deal, for he felt 
that there was nothing to prevent his finding Herk, 
Captain Beard, the prize crew of the Lapwing, and 
perhaps even his father. 

When he went into the market place for the first 
time. Miles went patiently looking here and there 
through the thousands of prisoners who were stirring 
hither and thither like a swarm of ants in an ant 
hill. Every once in a while he would catch a face 
that suggested a remembrance only to be disap- 
pointed. None of his neighbors or friends had ever 
seen Mr. Gadsden, and Miles, between disappoint- 
ment at not seeing his father and relief at deciding 
that he must be safe in Annapolis, gave up the search. 
Accordingly, he wrote a long letter home, telling of 
his plight. This letter he was able to forward 
through the kindness of Doctor McGrath, in whose 
care the answer was to be sent. Miles, though he had 
written home whenever he could send a line, had 
never been where a letter could reach him, and was 
homesick for news of his family. 

148 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


“Is Gadsden a common name?” queried the 
doctor, scanning the address on Miles’s letter. 

“ No; why do you ask? ” 

“ Why, there was a man here — a man far above 
the ordinary run of privateer captains — a special 
case held for trial — Why, what’s the matter?” 

“Was it my father — what was the trouble?” 
burst in Miles, afire with anxiety. 

The good doctor put on his gold-rimmed spec- 
tacles and surveyed the lad’s features carefully. 
Then he coughed 

“ Tell me, quick! ” cried Miles. 

“ Well,” responded the other slowly, “ I 
shouldn’t be surprised if it was your father — I see a 
resemblance now, but don’t worry about him; he’s 
all right. I’m sure. There was some question raised 
about his — er — ^papers — or something — involved 
trouble for the prize-court lawyers, you know, and 
they had to have him at the hearing — or something. 
Now, don’t you get to worrying, my lad,” and the 
kindly old man laid an affectionate hand on the boy’s 
shoulder. 

Miles had no words because he felt confused. 
There was something about Doctor McGrath’s vague- 
ness and halting way of talking, after Miles’s excla- 
mation, that left a feeling of dread in the boy’s heart. 

11 149 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


The doctor refused to discuss the subject further, 
stowed Miles’s letter away in a capacious pocket and 
made off toward the superintendent’s quarters. 

Miles sat down on a stone step and pondered. 
“ There’s something wrong — badly wrong about 
father,” he said to himself; “ I don’t believe he’s ex- 
changed at all, and he’s in trouble somewhere.” 

While looking for his father. Miles had suc- 
ceeded in finding the three sailors from his old crew. 
Briscoe and Captain Beard were found the first day 
that Miles was able to creep out into the yard, and he 
soon rounded up Martin and Jackson, the other two 
members of the Lapwing^s crew. Herk was no- 
where to be found, Briscoe reported. “ If the nig- 
ger was in the square,” said he, “ I could spy him as 
easy as I could sight the main skysail of ‘ Old Iron- 
sides ’■ in a fleet of oyster boats.” 

After the big fisherman from Gloucester and his 
brother were added to the group. Miles suggested 
that they make a point of meeting each day at the 
spot where they then stood so as to keep in touch with 
each other, and to keep up their spirits. The place 
selected was the corner of the square farthest from 
the agent’s house which stood at one end of the in- 
closure and here many interesting little meetings 
were held. It was more than a month before Miles 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


found Herk, who had been pressed into service as a 
house servant by Major Shortland, the prison com- 
mandant. Thereafter, at intervals, the negro, also, 
was enabled to join the men in the “ Amen Corner,” 
as Briscoe called it. The little coterie was further 
increased by several others who had stirring experi- 
ences to tell, and the group whiled away the heavy 
hours by “ swapping yarns.” 

Though the meetings in the Amen Corner served 
to make the monotonous life a little less irksome, 
still the months that were spent in the crowded ver- 
min-infested pen were even more galling to Miles 
than to most of the others. Besides the miserable 
fare, the filth and the rags of his prison life, there 
was the monotony of confinement. Youth rebels at 
inaction or loss of liberty and, as old Todd had 
hinted to him soon after the commencement of the 
Corners cruise, patience was not Miles’s most prom- 
inent virtue. Since the day of his entering the prison 
gates he had tried to devise some possibility of es- 
cape, but no way seemed open to even the faintest 
hope of success. England had always seemed to him 
a small country, a mere island that could almost 
have been placed in the boundaries of some of the 
plantations in the States. But now, as he caught a 
glimpse of the desolate waste that stretched to the 

151 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


horizon on every side, he felt that England was a 
vast, even a limitless, continent. Sometimes so im- 
pressed did he become with the hopelessness of ever 
crossing the unending expanse of moors and bogs, 
even should he manage to get clear of the prison 
walls, that for weeks he would cease to plan and 
even forget to think of escape. But there came a 
time, after a long period of resignation to fate, when 
the horrors of the place were so impressed upon him 
that he made a mental vow never to cease his efforts 
to breathe the air of freedom. 

Webb, the impressed sailor, had many discourag- 
ing tales to tell of men who had gained the freedom 
of the moors only to find that they had jumped from 
the frying pan into the fire. He found that most 
of those who had been in the prison long enough to 
know much of the conditions surrounding them con- 
sidered it useless to attempt to cross the hills and 
moors without a guide and outside aid. Miles was 
determined, however, that he would make the effort, 
as the prison life was intolerable. He would rather 
starve and die alone on the lonesome moor, or in the 
mire of the horrible bogs Webb had told him of, 
than endure the miseries of Dartmoor. Given free- 
dom, too, he felt that he could solve the mystery of 
his father’s fate. No news of his father had been 

152 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


received at Annapolis, he learned from a letter that 
Doctor McGrath delivered one day. It was from 
his sister Deborah and served to further depress 
his spirits. While he was counting the weary 
hours of Imprisonment, others were gaining honor 
in the glorious fight for America and for freedom. 
He longed to feel again the deck of a good ship 
beneath his feet, and he said to himself that if he 
could have a good steel blade in his hands, he could 
chop his way through the crew of the biggest Eng- 
lish ship of the line to where his father might be, 
even now, lying In irons. So each day he tried to 
add a little to his store of the sort of knowledge that 
might be of use when the crucial moment came. 

He studied the guard system of the prison, he 
tried to establish himself on a friendly footing with 
the sentinels, and he endeavored to gain a thorough 
knowledge of the plan of all that part of the prison 
through which he might have to pass to gain the 
outside wall. Then he sought out and questioned 
two men who had escaped but had been recaptured. 
From them he learned little worth knowing. Next, 
he decided to make the acquaintance of the teamsters 
who drove the wagons that brought In the prisoners. 
They, of course, knew the roads and might be In- 
duced to let fall some useful hints as to the topog- 

153 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


raphy of the country. Herk, in the meantime, had 
become a sort of trusty and was allowed many privi- 
leges. His race and his great stature make him a 
marked man and little fear of his escape was enter- 
tained. Through him Miles managed to meet one 
of the wagon drivers but, lest suspicion be excited, 
was compelled to make his efforts to extract informa- 
tion with extreme caution. He spent weeks of val- 
uable time in tactfully leading his man to talk on 
the desired subject before he felt that he had pumped 
him dry. At last he decided that he was on the 
point of exciting the man’s distrust and so gradually 
dropped the matter. 

He concluded that now he was ready to take up 
plans as to the direct means of escape from the 
prison, as he was confident that, once free of its 
restraining walls, he should be able to find a way to 
reach the coast. 

The discouraging part of the situation was that, 
as far as Miles had been able to find out, no one had 
ever succeeded in getting away. There had been 
many attempts, but every case had been disastrous; 
about a dozen had been killed by the muskets of the 
sentinels, the others had tasted the pleasures of the 
“ black hole ” on bread and water for ten days. 

The terrors of the moors he felt that he could 


154 


IN AN ENGLISH PRISON PEN 


risk, for he told himself that much of its reputation 
was due to the attempt of the authorities to discour- 
age the prisoners from trying to escape. 

He had not long thought seriously of getting 
free before remembering the stories that Captain 
Barney used to tell of Lieutenant Dale’s escape from 
Mill Prison during the Revolutionary War. This 
he had effected by means of the uniform of a British 
officer. How Dale got that uniform he never would 
tell, but the more Miles thought of it the more it 
struck him as the best means of escape, especially 
as it would stand him in good stead, not only as a 
disguise, but as a protection outside of the prison 
walls and in trying to get across the Channel. 


CHAPTER XI 


PLANNING AN ESCAPE 

S EVERAL things favored Miles’s purpose as 
to means of egress from the building in which 
he was confined at night. A large part of the wall 
of the prison below his window was sheltered by one 
of the diagonal walls, and all of it lay in shadow 
at night, for the yard lantern was around the cor- 
ner. His window was barred, but the bars were 
loose, and it would be easy for a light, agile fellow 
like him, if he had a rope, to slide down sixty 
feet to the ground unobserved in the darkness. 
About this time, too, came a fresh consignment of 
clothing for the soldiers of the garrison, many of 
whom threw away here and there a tattered coat, 
although such carelessness was against orders. 
Miles, by the judicious use of a little money, suc- 
ceeded in getting hold of a scarlet coat and a pair 
of leggings, which he concealed in his kit box. 
Others of the prisoners who were bold enough to 

156 


PLANNING AN ESCAPE 


wear what they picked up were soon forced to give 
them up and were punished for their temerity besides. 
Miles waited vainly to get hold of a greatcoat. 
His own pea-jacket would never do as a disguise, 
and without one he saw no possibility of passing the 
five sentinels which he had learned were between him 
and liberty. 

Each day when 5,000 prisoners were turned into 
the market square, Miles had an opportunity to meet 
Herk, whom he hoped to have as his companion 
should an opportunity for a dash for freedom come. 
He did not dare to confide in the negro, whose in- 
telligence was, of course, not of the highest order. 
“ Besides,” he thought, “ a secret is no longer a secret 
when it is shared.” Miles saw Herk almost every 
day and took care to caution him not to say or do 
anything that would call attention to the fact that 
they knew more of each other than any other two of 
the thousands about them. After laying his plans, 
he saw to it that Herk never visited the “ Amen 
Corner,” and tried to make it appear that his interest 
in the black fellow differed in no wise from that of 
the others who were attracted by him as by a sort 
of freak of nature. The negro’s position of general 
servant to the agent gave him special freedom in 
coming and going outside the walls, for Shortland 

157 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


knew that he would never be able to thread his way 
across the moors alone, and would have no idea 
where to go. But Herk had enough native cunning 
to make use of his liberty by picking up or stealing 
odd bits of rope unobserved, which he managed to 
smuggle into the yard and into Miles’s hands. These 
Miles spliced and knotted, in shipshape fashion, 
into one rope, long and strong enough, by the end of 
several weeks’ work, to serve as a means of escape 
from the window to the ground. 

Being unwilling to trust anyone with his plan, 
he was careful to work only when the others were 
asleep, making use of the light from the yard lan- 
terns. Then he coiled up the rope into the smallest 
possible compass and stowed it in his kit, waiting until 
he could complete his uniform before making his 
attempt. Miles had learned a good deal by his 
rough experiences and was determined not to take 
unnecessary chances when there was so much at stake. 
Herk finally appeared, one September afternoon, 
unusually stout-looking under his rough frieze coat. 
When Miles found a good chance, he quickly un- 
wound from the negro’s waist the long-waited for 
greatcoat, which he needed to hide his own non- 
uniform breeches. 

“ Bully! How did you get it, Herk? ” 

158 


PLANNING AN ESCAPE 


“ Marse Miles, I knowed you was waitin’ an’ 
a-waitin’, and I kain’t find nuthin’. Dese col’ 
nights nobody throws warm coats away. So I goes 
out on de road las’ night where de soldiers’ tavern 
is an’ I waits tell ’bout midnight when I knowed I 
kin fin’ somebody drunk, an’ sho’ nuff I fin’s a sojer 
layin’ by de road, an’ I just peels his coat an’ hat 
off. Dey’s bofe good as new.” And Herk pro- 
duced a “ shako ” from some mysterious recess of 
his clothes. 

“ Herk, you’re worth your weight in gold — and 
that’s saying a lot in your case — but move off while I 
sneak up to my room with these things. Be back 
here in fifteen minutes.” Though Miles did not 
realize it, there was no very close inspection of the 
doings of the prisoners, on account of the seeming 
impossibility of their escape, so that a good deal of 
his cautioning was probably not necessary. At any 
rate, no sentry observed his getting away with a 
bundle of clothing under his arm up into his room 
in the prison house. 

Now the problem was to get the countersign. 
The sentry at the gate was a fresh-faced young 
countryman who was performing his militia duty 
with very ill grace. Miles had settled on him. for 
his purpose, for he had frequently stood guard there 

159 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


and the American had had some little conversation 
with him on his previous duty at this post. Miles 
had planned to wait till a dark, stormy night should 
arrive, but the chance to get at this rebellious young 
fellow was too good to lose. When he came up, 
the militiaman was leaning on his musket before 
the sentry box, watching a couple of prisoners who 
were wrestling for a bet. There was a good deal 
of noisy hilarity and Miles was able to speak to the 
sentry without its being noticed. 

“ Want to make a good bit of money? ” said he 
in a low tone. 

“How?” 

“ I’ll give you four guineas for the countersign 
and never betray you.” 

“ Gimme five,” was the crafty response. 

“ I have only four, and can’t get any more,” 
said Miles; “ take it or leave it — it’s easy money.” 

The sentry rubbed his head, perplexed. “You 
don’t love Shortland, do you?” said the other, 
knowing that the superintendent had had the man 
flogged for some trifling offense. 

“ No, blast the brute ! — I’m your man. Bring 
me the cash to-night at six when I go off duty an’ 
you’ll get the word.” 

Miles had kept a quantity of gold pieces in his 
i6o 


PLANNING AN ESCAPE 


money belt where he had had them since leaving the 
Comet. It was more than four guineas, but he 
felt sure that he could buy the countersign for that, 
and knew that the rest would be needed afterwards. 
Of course, he had to trust to the honesty of the sen- 
try not to betray him, but he felt he could risk it. 

“ Herk,” he said to the waiting negro, “ watch 
for me to-night under those dwarf cedars outside 
the walls. Bring what eatables you can in your 
pocket. If you keep on grinning like that some one 
will get suspicious. 

At six the sentry was ready with his counter- 
sign — “ Wellington ” — and Miles slipped the coins 
into the open palm behind his back. For once the 
young Yankee blessed the habits of English weather, 
for by sundown the skies were leaden and a few 
pattering drops promised a dark, rainy night. The 
minutes seemed hours as he waited and watched. 
His companions, one after another, dropped asleep 
and lay snoring around him. A half hour before 
midnight. Miles unwound his rope, bent one end 
to an iron bolt in the stone wall near the window, 
and slowly paid out the rest. Then, waiting till 
the sentry passed the corner, he dropped the great- 
coat and stealthily climbed out. Catching the rope, 
he went down slowly from knot to knot. 

i6i 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


It was no easy task. Having been six or seven 
months off the deck of a ship, his hands had grown 
tender and, as any noise would have been fatal to 
his success, he had to make his descent almost inch 
by inch down the sixty feet of rope ; so it was a pain- 
ful journey. Once on the ground, he pulled on the 
coat, settled the hat well over his eyes, and awaited 
his chance. 

Just as twelve o’clock struck, there was a tramp 
of feet as a corporal’s guard came up to change 
sentinels. Miles slipped by, in the confusion of 
shifting, and no one even challenged him. He 
marched ahead without hesitation. On getting to 
the second gate, the sentry challenged him but did 
not go farther than the door of his box. Miles 
turned aside, whispered the countersign and was off 
in a moment. The same experience was met with at 
the three remaining gateways till he found himself out 
on the moors, for the first time since that dismal Feb- 
ruary morning so long ago. Free again! 

He drew a deep breath. 

“ I’ll be shot before I’ll let ’em take me back! ” 
he whispered to himself, and pushed on in haste 
to meet Herk. There was no time to lose, for if 
the dangling rope were found, or some overzealous 
sentry reported his suspicions, there would be a hue 
162 


PLANNING AN ESCAPE 


and cry that would spoil everything. The night 
was black enough to suit any escaping prisoner, so 
black that he could not see the road and dared not 
try to run for fear of breaking his legs in some of 
the deep holes and ruts. Once he fell headlong in 
the mire. But soon the three cedars loomed black 
against the sky, and he heard the welcome words 
in a loud whisper: 

“ Dat you, Marse Miles?” 

“Yes, all ready?” 

“ Ready, sah.” 

“ Herk, don’t you ever let anyone take me back 
there; Ed rather die free, I believe, than go back 
alive.” 

“ Dunno ’bout dat, Marse Miles, but I sholy is 
glad to git loose. Whar we gwine?” 

“ Follow the road till we hit the coast and then 
pick up a boat, if we can, and cross the Channel to 
France.” 

“ All right, sah ! ” Herk would have responded 
as trustingly if Miles had explained that he intended 
to sail for the moon. And the pair struck off 
through the darkness for freedom. 


CHAPTER XII 


ACROSS THE MOORS 

M iles was eager to cover as much ground as 
possible before daylight and followed Herk’s 
long strides for a good half hour before anything of 
interest happened. The going had been rough and 
the heavy coat he was wearing decidedly burden- 
some, but the fact that they were leaving their pur- 
suers behind repaid him for any creature discom- 
forts, and he plodded along more than satisfied with 
the results of the night. 

“ Boom!” 

The sound came from the direction of the prison, 
and Miles knew that his escape had been discovered. 

“That means they’re starting after us, Herk! 
Move along lively ! ” urged Miles. 

“Yassir! Don’t need to put no spurs to dis 
boy. We’ll dess natchally burn de wind. Dis 
yere’s de time ter hit de grit ! ” With that he set 
out at a lively gait that soon wore out Miles, 
164 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


weighted down as he was. The night was chilly, 
and Miles would have hated to throw away the 
heavy greatcoat even if he had not valued it so highly 
as a disguise. He slowed Herk down to a dog trot 
and, finally, to a walk. 

When they had traversed a distance that Miles 
estimated to be about a league, he heard a startled 
“ Lawdamussy! ” from Herk and the indistinct bulk 
before him vanished. As he halted quickly he heard 
a splash. Then there was a series of splashes, sput- 
ters, and grunts. 

“ Here, Herk! This way I ” he called. 

“ Yassir, Fse a-comin’ 1 Fse in mud up to 
mah years ! ” and he heard Herk floundering in 
the bog. 

Miles groped his way forward until he reached 
the spot where Herk had taken his plunge, and man- 
aged, finally, to reach out a hand and help him to 
solid ground. 

“ Phew ! Dat’s quicksands and dey mos’ got 
me I ” said the negro with chattering teeth. 

“ No, not quicksands,” said Miles, “ but mire, 
and that’s just as bad. We must go more carefully. 
It’s dark as pitch and we’re likely to hit even a worse 
place if we don’t pick our way. Let’s try to the 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Before they had gone three steps they found soft 
ground again and turned back. When they thought 
they faced in their original direction, they turned to 
the right and were stopped by water again within a 
few feet. Then they started to retrace their steps, 
hoping to find a solid way opening off somewhere in 
the desired direction. It did not take them long to 
discover that they had passed along a narrow neck of 
hard ground that projected out into a bog of the 
worst sort. Even when at last they did discover 
firm ground branching away to the left of their orig- 
inal route, it was not long before they were at fault 
again and forced to turn back. This was repeated 
time and again till they seemed hopelessly lost and 
Miles had to avail himself of the stars, for by this 
time the clouds had broken. After locating the 
north star, he satisfied himself as to the right direc- 
tion and again commenced the hunt for safe ground. 
By this time it seemed they were in a labyrinth of 
sloughs and puddles. Fortunately the darkness was 
thinning somewhat and they were able to move with 
a little more confidence. Miles now began to feel 
that they were working their way out of the most 
treacherous part of the bog. 

“ What pesters me is how wuz we cute enough to 
fin* our way so far in,’* said Herk. “ It dess looks 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


lak we knowed our way an’ wuz a-trying to git as 
far back into troublesome Ian’ as we knowed how ! ” 
“ Yes, it does seem so,” said Miles, “ and we’re 
losing valuable time, too. I was just thinking — 
hark! Listen, HerkI Did you hear that?” 

“What was it? Sounded like a owl to me!” 
and Herk turned, hand to ear, to listen. 

“ Ohoo-oo-ee! ’’faintly sounded across the moors. 
Calls and shouts followed. There was no mistak- 
ing this time. It was the sound of human voices 
and Miles realized that the pursuers were uncom- 
fortably near. 

“ We must get out of this in a hurry,” he whis- 
pered excitedly, “ our only hope is to keep on toward 
them, as we are headed now, until we are sure of our 
ground and then make a break for it. They’re hot 
on the scent.” Herk had taken the alarm quickly 
and needed no second hint. He was off before Miles 
had finished speaking and soon came to grief again. 
Miles heard him sloshing through mud and water 
and hurriedly called as loudly as he dared: 

“ This way, Herk I Come back I ” 

Stepping high, with a sort of string-haltered gait, 
Herk returned; and Miles led the way, as swiftly as 
he dared, along a slight upgrade that he was sure 
would lead them to drier ground. 

167 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Stay behind me,” he said, “ I think I am a 
safer pilot than you.” 

In a few moments he found that they were on 
high ground and he decided that he could at last 
venture to turn away from the point from which he 
had last heard the voices. Then a bright thought 
struck him. 

“ Herk, you can carry this heavy coat better than 
I can. Take it and I’ll set a pace for you for a 
while!” 

This arrangement worked well and they thought 
that they were gaining on their pursuers. But again 
came the sounds of halloos and calls, this time to the 
left and, it seemed to Miles, closer than before. 

“ They seem to be near where we had our troubles 
with the mire,” said Miles; “ I only hope they’ll have 
as hard luck as we did 1 ” 

“ ’Taint no skin off’n my back if de whole kit an* 
bilin’ uv ’em gits drownded 1 ” chuckled Herk. 

Miles was just congratulating himself on the 
fact that he had chosen a direction that had given 
them good hard turf when “ swish, swish,” he 
struck into marshy grass and came to a stop as Herk 
almost ran over him. 

“ Dah, now! Got ter swim out agin, has we? ’* 
said Herk loudly. 


i68 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


“Ssh! Quiet there! ” cautioned Miles; “you’ll 
have them on our backs in a jiffy!” Herk 
clapped his hands to his mouth in time to smother 
one of his characteristic guffaws, for mishaps al- 
ways meant merriment to the darky. 

“ Keep your hand over your mouth till I find a 
way out of this,” whispered Miles. “ One of your 
quack, quack, quack laughs would be heard clear to 
Dartmoor ! ” 

Herk realized that they were in a tight place, but 
it did not seem to depress him for, as Miles started 
out, carefully feeling for solid mother earth, he 
heard Herk say softly to himself: 

“ I’se hyeard tell ob a man habbin’ a hoss-laugh 
but I’se de fust man I ebber knowed what had a 
duck-laugh ! Quack, quack ! ” Then he slapped him- 
self on the leg and bent over with one big hand over 
his mouth and the other held to his side. 

Suddenly Miles stopped and listened as he heard 
a voice out of the darkness back of them. 

This time the sound was nearer and he heard 
the words “ high ground.” Then there seemed to 
be an answering call of inquiry and the first voice 
shouted: “This way — there’s high ground here!” 
There was the gleam of a lantern and, as Miles 
hurried along, he looked from time to time over his 
169 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


shoulder at its tiny flame in an effort to gauge the 
speed and direction of the pursuing party. He soon 
satisfied himself that the light was following the di- 
rection he and Herk were taking and he determined 
to change his course. He turned sharply to the 
right and started at a swinging trot with Herk again 
at his heels. Wet turf under foot again caused him 
to veer more and more until he found that he had al- 
most turned back again. Suddenly, from in front, 
he heard a voice dead ahead: “ Wot’s the trouble, 
Bill? Where be you a-goin’? You’re turned, 
ain’t ye? ” 

“Ssh!” Miles hissed to Herk; “don’t say a 
word! ” he whispered. Then quickly he called in a 
muffled sort of voice: “ Wet ground here! ” Then 
he caught Herk’s arm and pulled him down so as to 
get his mouth close to the big fellow’s ear. “ We’ve 
got to pass him. I’m afraid to risk another turn, 
and besides he has heard us and will suspect some- 
thing if we turn again.” 

“This way. Bill! Wot’s the matter with yer? 
It’s all right here ! ” 

“ Keep about five steps behind me,” whispered 
Miles again. “ Watch me and when you see that 
his attention is fixed on me — get at him. Mind 
that you don’t give him a chance to cry out ! ” 

170 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


Miles did not wait to hear Herk’s whispered 
“Yassir!” but stepped forward toward the spot 
where he still heard the man now grumbling at his 
supposed companion’s stupidity. Miles was afraid 
of betraying himself by his voice and did not dare 
answer when the stranger complained of his “ dumb 
blockheadedness.” He coughed as hoarsely as he 
could as if the fit of coughing prevented him from 
talking and in this way gained a few moments of 
time. Passing off to the side of the figure that he 
was now able to distinguish clearly he again assumed 
a fit of coughing. Doubling up as if in great pain 
he rolled on the ground and began to groan dis- 
mally. He was careful, however, not to let his 
eyes leave the figure of the man and was greatly 
relieved when he saw him come forward with mut- 
tered exclamations of wonder. Then out of the 
darkness Miles saw a big, black form launch itself 
upon him and he knew that Herk had arrived. 
Springing to his feet he hurried up and saw the 
big black fellow strike twice and then rise to his 
feet. 

“He’s safe, Marse Miles!” he whispered 
hoarsely. “ He won’t pester us no mo’ 1 ” 

“ Hurry — we must get away,” whispered Miles 
excitedly; “ there they are — hardly five rods away! ” 
171 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


The two fugitives crept softly forward again and 
soon struck ground that made Miles drop to his 
knees and carefully pass his hands over the earth. 

“It’s a road, Herk!” he said excitedly; “I 
thought I felt a wagon rut.” 

“Yassir! It sho’ is! I kin see it nowl” 

Miles, too, saw that the line of the roadway was 
plain enough to follow, provided they did not move 
too swiftly, and he felt that they were safe from the 
dreaded mire at last. The pursuit had gone on 
and the road led in the exact direction that he calcu- 
lated would take them to the south coast. He real- 
ized that great caution must be used as there was 
more chance of running upon danger from human 
enemies on the highway than on the moors. But 
he had had enough of bogs and mires to last a life- 
time, so they trudged along with their ears keenly 
on the alert for suspicious sounds. When daylight 
approached they left the road and, taking care that 
they left no trail, made their way to a thick clump of 
bushes and stretched themselves out for an hour’s 
badly needed rest. 

When Miles woke, to his dismay he saw that 
the sun was at least two hours high. He had hoped 
to catch a cat nap and push forward until it was 
light enough to pick a safe place to hide during the 
172 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


daylight hours. They were close to the road and in 
sight of a farm house, but their hiding place was not 
a bad one as it was in the midst of a fallow field that 
had grown up in underbrush. There they spent the 
day and when darkness came, half-starved, they 
started on to the southward. This time they took a 
line parallel with the road and only a few yards dis- 
tant from it, giving the farm house they had seen 
a wide berth because they had noticed there a dog 
that might give the alarm. 

They had traveled for about an hour, without 
a favorable opportunity for foraging and without 
encountering water, when Miles heard a trickling 
sound in the direction of the roadside and was de- 
lighted to find a horse trough that was fed by a 
wooden pipe from a spring nearby. After a long, 
deep draught they decided to make another detour 
to avoid a cottage which they had sighted, when 
Herk almost ran into a cow that was grazing at the 
side of a little creek and Miles determined to stop 
for supper. Fortunately, the cow proved a gentle, 
tractable beast and while Miles held his hat Herk 
quickly pumped it full of rich milk. After both 
had refreshed themselves they pushed on and before 
long saw the lights of a city that they took to be 
Plymouth. The direction they were following would 

173 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


lead them a mile or so to the east of the town and 
they decided to keep to their course. 

“ We must strike the coast,” said Miles, “ where 
we are not likely to be seen and then carefully work 
our way along until we find a boat of some sort. 
Our only hope is to reach France.” They were 
soon within the sound of the surf and after descend- 
ing a steep declivity found themselves at the water’s 
edge. To the west, scarcely a hundred yards away, 
they saw a light which came from a hut on the hill- 
side and Miles decided to reconnoiter. About fifty 
feet from the house they found a boat of the sort 
used by fishermen along the coast. It was a staunch- 
looking affair and Miles felt that their difficulties 
were over if they could launch her without detection. 

“ Ain’t no oars, Marse Miles! ” said Herk. 

“ Stay here and I’ll see if I can find any. They 
have probably taken them up to the house. Wait 
here quietly and if anything happens, be ready to 
help.” 

As Miles cautiously approached the hut he heard 
voices inside. As the light within was not very 
bright, he ventured close to the window and saw 
three rough-looking fishermen at a table, while a 
fourth lay in a bunk smoking his pipe and watching 
his companions dispute over a game of cards. Sat- 
174 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


isfied that the men were too much interested to leave 
the house for some time to come, Miles decided that 
he could prosecute his search without fear of inter- 
ruption. But he had reckoned without his host. 
As he circled the shanty, he found the object of his 
search, but all too quickly, for he came to grief in 
the very moment of his success. As he turned the 
corner of the hut, he stumbled over the oars which 
had been placed against the wall, and there was a 
clatter that brought a barking, snapping dog from 
under the house, and the four men rushed out of the 
door. Miles was kicking at the dog and managing 
to keep him at a safe distance as the men appeared. 

“ Ho, wot’s the row ’ere? ” asked one of them. 
“ Come off, Tige ! Now, my beauty ” — this to 
Miles — “ We’ll find out wot you’re up to 1 Bring 
’em inside, mates, and we’ll see wot sort of a cove — 
’ead ’im off there. Bob ! ” 

Miles had made a dash for the back of the 
shanty, but the dog was at his heels and he had not 
gone ten steps before he was on the ground with 
two men on top of him and two more trying to find 
a way to get at him. He was dragged to his feet 
and taken to the house, but before his captors were 
all inside there was a change in the situation. Miles 
was being pulled forward to the light with a man at 

175 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


each side. The other fishermen were entering the 
door when there was a rush from the darkness with- 
out and both men were catapulted to the far side 
of the room. Miles realized in a moment that Herk 
had come to the rescue, and as his guards turned in 
astonishment he wrenched his left hand free and 
sent it smashing into the face of one of them and, 
without waiting to see the result, clinched with the 
other, a big burly fisherman who, under other cir- 
cumstances, would have made an ugly antagonist. 
He was so taken by surprise, however, that when 
Miles crooked his knee under his calf and threw his 
weight on him he went over like a log, his head 
striking the edge of one of the bunks as he fell. 
Before Miles could turn, the man he had struck was 
upon him like a tiger. He saw a thousand stars as 
a heavy fist landed back of his ear and he went to 
the floor dazed. He realized, though, that he had 
fallen across the big man and he rolled over and 
over in an effort to escape from the one who had 
felled him as well as to get clear of the fellow under 
him. The latter was reviving and seemed anxious 
to get into the fray. 

“ ’It the bloody swab over the ’ead with a cheer. 
Bill I ” he roared, as Miles rolled out of sight under 
the bunk. Turning on his side he tried to reach the 
176 


ACROSS THE MOORS 


boy, when a vicious kick under the chin from the 
point of Miles’s boot brought a yell of rage from 
him. Herk in the meantime had been busy. When 
he made his first rush he had used one man as a missile 
with which to knock out the other, and after that 
a kick in the ribs disposed of the dog. When the 
two men had gone flying across the room, one of 
them lay crumpled up motionless against the wall, 
but the other arose full of fight, and leaped for 
Herk’s back, as the negro turned to go to Miles’s 
assistance. This kept Herk from reaching Miles 
in time to prevent the blow that floored his young 
master, but, in spite of the burden on his back, he 
reached the boy’s assailant just as Miles rolled under 
the bunk. A kick in the stomach doubled up the 
fisherman “ Bill,” who had been asked to hit Miles 
“ over the ’ead with a cheer,” and temporarily dis- 
posed of him. While Miles lay kicking at the big 
fisherman, who was trying to rout him from under 
the bunk, Herk fastened his fingers in the hair of the 
man on his back. He jumped twice, hunching his 
back so as to work the man almost over his shoul- 
ders. Then, quick as thought, he bent forward and 
with his hands clasped back of the struggling fisher- 
man’s neck he swung him in a great circle through 
the air and brought him down like a flail across the 
177 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


big fellow Miles was struggling with. Then he 
straightened up to receive other comers. The man 
Herk had kicked rose to his feet and was again 
making for the negro, when a sledge-hammer blow 
on the point of the jaw disposed of him. Miles lost 
no time In crawling out. 

“ Now we must tie them up, Herk, and get away 
from here,” said Miles. “ Find a line I ” 

There was plenty of rope and twine and the four 
men were quickly bound. 

“ It would not do to have them free themselves 
until we have had a good long start,” said Miles, 
“ and I wish we ” 

“ Jest wait a minute,” said Herk, “ and Fll fix 
’em so dey won’t get away fer one sweet whet I ” 

He soon reappeared, dragging a seine and, 
while Miles looked on approvingly, he rolled the 
four men up In the net and tied the big bundle so that 
Miles felt it was safe to make for the boat. He 
secured the oars, the boat was launched, and soon 
the shore line was swallowed in the night as they 
rowed out over the dark waters. 


CHAPTER XIII 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 

I N Spite of his recent exertions, Herk bent lustily 
to the oars ; and, as the water was comparatively 
still, he made good time. With every stroke Miles 
felt h6 could see the hated shores recede, and felt a 
thankfulness that he could not express. 

“ Let me help you now, Herk,” suggested Miles 
after an hour had passed. 

“ Nebber min’. I’ll tell you when I’se tired,” was 
the answer. ‘‘ De wind’s wid us now an’ dat’s some 
he’p.” 

It occurred to Miles that the wind might be made 
to help still more. Standing up he spread his great- 
coat to the breeze and made a sail of it till Herk 
agreed to let him have a spell at the oars. So they 
spent the night, Herk agreeing to let Miles have a 
half hour’s turn at the oars several times. Finally, 
as the east lightened, they saw that the sun was rising 

179 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


through a heavy fog that was rapidly blowing toward 
them. 

“ The thicker the fog the less chance of being 
seen by pursuers and blockading ships,” thought 
Miles. A few minutes later he heard the sound 
of creaking and straining he knew so well, and 
right across their wake plowed the cut-water of 
a huge vessel, whose three rows of gunports 
showed her to be a ship of the line of the largest 
type. 

The uppermost row of ports was barely visible 
as the fog thickened into a solid bank of opaque va- 
por at that point. Miles heard an order delivered 
in English, and he breathed an involuntary prayer 
of thanks for the interposition of the fog. Soon the 
creaking and straining sounds were swallowed up in 
the fog, along with the vision of the dreaded man- 
of-war, and the two fugitives breathed freely again. 
The fog lasted till well on into what Miles computed 
was afternoon, when suddenly they emerged into 
clear air. Bearing down on them not three cable’s 
lengths away was a brig that was cutting the water 
at a lively rate, promising to run them down unless 
they looked alive to their course. Miles’s heart 
jumped into his mouth. He saw that discovery was 
unavoidable. “ Back water, Herk ! ” called Miles 
i8o 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 


quickly. “We may be able to get into the fog bank 
before they see us.” As Herk pushed on the 
oars Miles kept close watch on the brig, saw sev- 
eral sailors rush to the side and heard a hail. 
To his delight it was not delivered in English. 
Never had the sound of a foreign tongue been so 
welcome. 

“Hold a moment, Herk!” he cried. “Pull 
away, straight ahead; they’re friends! At least, 
they’re not English.” 

Then, turning to the vessel, he shouted : “ Throw 
us a line ! ” at the same time trying to make himself 
understood by gestures. A man disappeared from 
the side, and in a moment reappeared well forward 
with a coiled rope. Another showed up abaft the 
mainmast also ready to cast if the first throw failed. 
His services were not needed, however, as Herk’s 
powerful strokes had brought them so close that Miles 
had no trouble in catching the line. Five minutes 
later the fugitives had climbed the fore chains and 
stood on the deck of the brig. 

Miles asked who it was aboard who understood 
English, and a bright-looking young sailor spoke up 
with a strong “ down-east ” twang and offered his 
services as interpreter. Since Miles did not dare tell 
the truth, he pretended that he and Herk had been 
13 i8i 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


carried out to sea in a sudden squall and had lost their 
way in the fog. 

With a wink the Yankee sailor, who recognized 
Miles as American from his speech, said between 
his teeth: “ You may thank God this is a Dutch brig 
and not the British hundred-and-twenty gun ship we 
passed this noon ! ” 

Turning to the captain of the vessel he repeated 
Miles’s story with a few variations and embellish- 
ments that he thought would make it seem more prob- 
able, and added that the newcomers seemed to be 
able-bodied seamen. Through the interpreter Miles 
was informed that they were bound for Curasao, ex- 
pected to touch also at San Juan, Porto Rico, and, 
if possible, at Martinique. Miles, at the sailor’s 
suggestion, declared that he and Herk would be glad 
to work their passage. They had been discharged 
from a frigate, he said, and had been just on the 
point of reshipping at Plymouth when they had met 
with their late misadventure. This story was too 
hurriedly constructed to explain everything, especially 
Miles’s uniform coat and hat, but whatever the cap- 
tain thought he said nothing. He cheerfully agreed 
to accept them as additions to his crew, and ordered 
the sailor to take them to the boatswain for assign- 
ment to their quarters. 

182 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 


Under other conditions Miles would have found 
his new position intolerable. He was berthed in the 
same flea-infested forecastle with his own slave and 
a dozen other rough, unclean sailors. He had been 
disgusted with his quarters and fare the first day 
on the Comet, and, later, found worse on the 
Dolphin, but these were luxurious compared with 
what he found here. Still, he was wise enough to 
realize that there was no other way of getting 
back across the Atlantic to home and freedom, and 
any labor was preferable to the life of Dartmoor 
Prison. 

Every day, as he bent his shoulders to hauling 
on the yards or swabbing down the deck, he re- 
minded himself of the weary months of prison life 
and whistled cheerfully. 

As the Yankee, who had acted as interpreter, was 
the only other soul on board, besides Herk, who could 
speak English, and a compatriot besides. Miles and 
he swapped yarns by the hour. He was a typical 
down-easter — a fisherman from Machias port, in what 
is now Maine. 

Shortly before the war he had been impressed by 
an English frigate out of Halifax. He had served 
across the Atlantic, and then, while the ship was at 
Antwerp, he got out of a port and swam to shore. 

183 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Then, after dodging searching parties and nearly 
starving to death, he had tramped to Amsterdam, 
found work in a shipyard, and, finally, when he had 
mastered a practical supply of Dutch, he shipped on 
this brig. He had such a lively terror of British ships 
that he was not anxious to return to America until 
the war was safely over and there was no danger of 
his being recaptured. He told Miles quaintly that 
he didn’t care a “ rotten codfish for glory,” and had 
had his ardor to fight “ clean skeered out of him by 
the cat o’ nine tails.” 

Miles, however, had not been long on the vessel 
before an accident completely altered his position. 
About a week after leaving the Channel the brig 
ran into a heavy gale. There were no extra hands 
on the merchantman to relieve the men on duty after 
a watch was up, during heavy weather, and even the 
captain kept the deck for twenty-four hours at a 
stretch. During the second night of the storm, when 
all hands were nearly exhausted, a huge roller broke 
on the deck just abaft the mainmast and swept every- 
thing before it. The first mate was carried over- 
board and lost instantly, for there was no possibility 
of launching a boat, and the captain was jammed 
under the wheel with three ribs broken. The second 
mate, a young nephew of the skipper’s, threw up his 
184 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 


hands aghast, far he knew nothing about reck- 
oning or laying a course. The Yankee hastened 
to Miles with the bad news and the query whether 
he could navigate. 

“ That I can,” replied Miles. 

After a brief colloquy between the Yankee, the 
suffering captain, and the second mate. Miles was re- 
quested to take up his berth in the forward cabin 
and run the ship through the Yankee interpreter. 
That he was glad of the change can be easily guessed. 
No longer a mere deck hand, working his passage, 
he was now actually in command. Shortly after his 
installation as acting commander the weather mod- 
erated, and gave all hands a chance for much-needed 
rest and sleep. 

The crew of the brig were astonished at their 
new captain, but, as one of Miles’s first acts was to 
provide as well for their comfort as the circumstances 
permitted, there was no growling. The experience 
of actually navigating a vessel by such knowledge as 
he possessed was of great value to Miles from a prac- 
tical viewpoint, but otherwise the voyage was tedious 
beyond description. Head winds, persisting for 
weeks at a time, made the progress of the lumbering 
brig exasperatingly slow. Except for the scraps of 
Dutch that he used in talking with the captain and 

185 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


second mate his conversation was limited to Herk and 
the Yankee. 

What had become of the Comet and the good 
friends on board of her? What of the mother and 
sister at home? And, above all, what had become 
of his father? But Miles found so much work to 
occupy his waking hours that he had small time to 
spend on fruitless worry. 

After three months of buffeting head winds and 
storms the brig limped into the port of Wilhelmstad, 
Curagao. Except for the accident, which put Miles 
in command, the voyage was wholly uneventful. Once 
he saw the enemy, three vessels of war, convoying a 
fleet of South American merchantmen; but, fortu- 
nately, they paid no attention to the little Dutchman. 
A week before making the landfall of Curagao the 
Injured captain was able to resume his duties, but he 
appointed Miles first mate and, on landing, paid him 
first-mate’s wages for the entire voyage. With this 
Miles hoped to buy passage home In the first vessel 
bound for the United States, so In Curagao he and 
Herk remained. 

After a reluctant good-by the Dutch captain 
sailed for Rotterdam, leaving the two hoping that it 
would only be a matter of hours till a ship flying the 
Stars and Stripes would appear In the offing. The 

i86 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 


hours, however, lengthened into days and the days 
into weeks before the news came that an American 
schooner was entering the harbor. 

She proved to be the Byrd Rogers, of Norfolk, 
and her captain gave them a hearty welcome, promis- 
ing to land them in Baltimore within the month. 
When Miles remembered Boyle’s experience with the 
blockaders of the Chesapeake, and his own rash 
promise to bring the Lapwing to Baltimore, he felt 
that the captain was possibly a little sanguine; but 
he was once more on the deck of an American ship, 
and was not in a humor for forebodings of any sort. 

The days of this voyage were full of delightful 
anticipation. He was nearing home, and nothing 
could dim that fact. 

He pictured the tall brick mansion with its ivy- 
covered wings, the carved doorway with its huge 
brass knocker, and imagined himself running up the 
little flight of stone steps to be greeted by mother 
and sister Debby — yes, and father, probably — none 
of whom he had heard from since that December 
nearly two years ago, that seemed a hundred years 
ago. What stories there would be to tell! How 
good to sleep in the big four-poster again and hear 
the birds out on the trees just beside the windows! 
When Herk got reminiscent he would talk in an af- 
187 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


fecting way about “ de roas’ capon, de strawb’y jam 
ole ’Liza used to make,” and go on describing home 
delicacies in a way that would have made a brass im- 
age water at the mouth, to say nothing of a nineteen- 
year-old lad who had lived on corned beef and salt 
pork for months, and even years. The long days of 
suffering at Dartmoor were only parts of a sickening 
nightmare now, and the world was full of brightness 
and joy. Herk’s “ humming JEollan harp,” as Miles 
called it, was heard from morning till night, and his 
face was bisected by a smile that kept the whole crew 
in humor. 

The region of the Bermudas was left behind, and 
they were giving the dreaded Hatteras waters a wide 
berth when one day the lookout descried a sail on the 
western horizon. As the wind was on the Byrd Rog- 
erses beam, every sail was hoisted and her course 
altered to get the full benefit of whatever breeze was 
blowing. “ We’re too near home now,” said her 
captain, “ to take any chances of having a good voy- 
age spoiled by running into an enemy.” Miles sym- 
pathized with this view of the situation, and earnestly 
hoped that the little vessel would show a clean pair 
of heels. 

As the hours dragged on, to his intense disap- 
pointment, the sails of the stranger continued to rise 

i88 


ON BOARD THE DUTCH BRIG 


out of the water until now her body stood well up, 
showing even to the naked eye the bulk and trim of 
a large man-of-war. It was soon equally plain that 
she was in full chase. 

In half an hour Miles could see the long, yellow 
stripe of the gun deck along her side. When at last 
she ran up the English flag, and he saw the puff of 
smoke from her bow chaser, he turned to Herk, who 
stood at his side, and said : “ Herk, we won’t see home 
this time, nor find out what’s become of father, 
either ! ” Herk saw the moist eyes and noted the 
broken note in his master’s voice, and quickly said: 
“ Don’t you mind, Marse Miles, we’se done got away 
from ’em once an’ we kin do it again! An’ don’ 
yo’ worry ’bout marster; he kin tek keer of hisself.” 

The Byrd Rogers hove to almost before the ball 
that ricochetted by had taken its last bound, and a 
boat was seen putting out from the frigate. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 

T heir captor was the Achilles of forty- four 
guns, one of the newest frigates in His Maj- 
esty’s navy, but Miles had no admiration in his eyes as 
he looked up at her shining sides and the row of grin- 
ning faces that lined her rail. On stepping aboard 
with his kit of personal belongings, he was curtly or- 
dered below with Herk and the captain and crew of 
the Byrd Rogers, 

“ Hold hard, a moment,” said a voice; and, as 
the marine that was hustling the little party below 
stepped aside deferentially. Miles turned to face the 
speaker. He saw a fresh-faced young lieutenant of 
about nineteen or twenty. 

“ Are you the fellow they say was an officer on 
a privateer and managed to get away from Dart- 
moor? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Egad, you did well ! Will you share my quar- 
ters?” 


190 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


Miles stared with astonishment. “ Do you 
mean it? ” he asked, after a pause. 

“ With all my heart.” 

“ Then I will gladly, ‘ with all my heart,’ ” re- 
plied Miles, and followed his new friend in the di- 
rection of the wardroom, wondering if he were only 
dreaming. 

The young officer led the way to his quarters 
and showed Miles an empty bunk under his own. 

“ Now, Mr. Yankee,” said he, “ I want you to 
stow yourself as comfortably as you can here and 
be messmate with me. I’m Leftenant O’Rourke, of 
Dublin — at your service, sir.” 

“ You are very kind indeed, Mr. O’Rourke,” 
replied Miles, still wondering. “ My name is Miles 
Gadsden, of Annapolis, Maryland.” 

“ I tell you, Mr. Gadsden, I have learned how 
a prisoner of war should be treated, and that from 
one of your Yankee sailors, the late Captain James 
Lawrence, peace to his memory I Aye, he was a gal- 
lant man — one of the finest I ever met — Lord, what 
a pity he wasn’t in our navy! Well, I was aboard 
the Peacock in an unfortunate scrape she got into 
with the Hornet — you know — ” Here he made a 
comical, wry face and Miles grinned broadly, for 
he knew the story. 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ He shot us all to pieces, but no sooner were we 
aboard as prisoners than he treated us like long-lost 
brothers. Never saw anything like it. All of us drew 
up a memorial of thanks when we went ashore, but 
it don’t half express what we felt. Saddest thing 
in the world his death on the Chesapeake” and the 
lieutenant shook his head. “ I was exchanged long 
ago, but my orders got muddled somehow and I am 
just going home, after being six months on block- 
ade, as a passenger on this infernal tub.” 

When Miles followed O’Rourke to the mess 
table that night, he found himself seated at his new 
friend’s elbow near the end of the table, awaiting 
the rest. The kindness of O’Rourke he found re- 
flected in the faces of his immediate neighbors, 
though the Englishmen were by nature much more 
reserved than the warm-blooded young Irishman. 
Miles rightly guessed that O’Rourke had arranged 
to have the kindest disposed men sit near them at the 
table. As he glanced at the other members of the 
wardroom mess, he saw that, while some stared at 
him insolently, the greater number affected not to 
notice him at all. Knowing, too, that he owed his 
unusual privileges to the urgings of O’Rourke, he 
tried to make himself as agreeable as he could. 
Moreover, Miles knew that there was a prejudice 
192 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


against privateersmen as distinguished from man-of- 
war’smen, and he felt that he had to prove by his con- 
duct that a privateersman could be as much of a 
gentleman as could a commissioned officer. 

The next morning, as soon as O’Rourke was off 
watch, he joined Miles, with the question, “ How’d 
ye like to look over our tub? ” 

“ Nothing better.” 

“Ever been on a man-o’-war?” 

“ Yes, I went over the Constitution when she 
touched at Annapolis two years ago. I saw her run 
in under all sail, studding sails on both sides, and 
then, taking all in together, make a flying moor. 
Most beautiful sight in the world ! I was wild from 
that moment to join the navy. But I couldn’t get 
the commission.” 

“ Mine cost my dad fifty pounds,” grinned 
O’Rourke; “we buy ’em on our side. Well, if 
you’ve seen the Constitution — ^blast her sides — 
you’ll have a chance now to see a real frigate,” 
bantered the Irishman. 

“ Miles hit back with a remark about the Java 
and the Guerrihe, the two English frigates captured 
by the Constitution, and off they went, a pair of de- 
cidedly friendly enemies. 

For a few moments they walked slowly along 

193 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the gangway that connected the quarter-deck with the 
forecastle. On the deck below, the “ waist ” of the 
ship, they saw the watch painting the guns, flemish- 
ing the ropes, and busy with a hundred odds and 
ends about the rigging. 

“ Blurt it out, man,” said O’Rourke, eying Miles, 
whose face bore an odd look of disapproval — “ say 
anything you like — when the first luff ain’t in ear- 
shot.” 

“ To speak plainly,” said Miles in an undertone, 
“ I never saw such a collection of brutes in my life ! 
Just look at those faces I ” and he turned in the 
direction of a group of ruffians that were being 
chased up the shrouds by the boatswain’s mates who 
whacked them with their “ colts.” 

“ I never saw such treatment even among the 
most cruel overseers on our slave-worked planta- 
tions,” he added in horror. 

“ Fact is,” replied the other, “ these rapscallions 
are as ruffianly as they look. Most of the men on 
this ship I’m told came out of York Jail. They rep- 
resent every crime on the calendar. Some of ’em 
were pressed out of taverns when they were drunk, 
and if they had any respectability once they’ve lost 
it now. That’s why we have to go at ’em with a 
rattan — they’re brutes and respect only brute force.” 

194 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


Miles said nothing, but he made a mental com- 
parison between the alert, eager fellows he saw 
aboard the Constitution and these scourings of jails 
and low taverns. 

“ Life in the forecastle must be a hell,” he ob- 
served. 

“ It is,” assented O’Rourke cheerfully. “ But 
It’s nearly six bells now, and If you’ll come aft you’ll 
see a bit of our purgatory.” Wondering what his 
companion meant. Miles turned on his heel and the 
two sauntered back. 

“ Why does John Bull resort to impressment, 
anyway?” asked Miles. “We don’t have to and 
we get far better crews.” 

“ But you don’t maintain a fleet of eleven hun- 
dred sail,” returned the other. “ It’s that fleet alone 
that saved us from Bonaparte and we had to have 
the men to man them, no matter how or where we 
got ’em. That’s why we fellows have borrowed a 
man or two from your Yankee whalers.” 

Miles was wondering how far he could continue 
to discuss the point without getting on dangerous 
ground, when his attention was distracted by a com- 
motion at the foot of the poop-deck ladder. The 
captain — a thickset, bulldog sort of man — came on 
deck at that instant. “Turn the hands aft I” he 


195 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


growled to the first lieutenant, who stood by evi- 
dently expecting the order. 

That officer bawled to a midshipman, who ran 
forward and passed the word to the boatswain’s 
mates. The order was piped and shouted to all on 
the ship and the men came shambling and scuffling 
to the quarter-deck. 

Miles and O’Rourke took positions behind the 
officers on the weather side, standing on the slides 
of a carronade, where they would be inconspicuous 
and yet could see the coming ceremony. 

On the opposite side of the ship were herded the 
crew, on whose faces Miles read still more clearly 
the story of crime and brutal treatment. Above, on 
the poop deck, were drawn up the marines, in gay 
scarlet and white. At the foot of the poop ladder 
stood the captain, with his subordinates grouped 
behind him. 

At the captain’s order, “ Rig the gratings! ” the 
carpenter and carpenter’s mates dragged up two of 
the wooden gratings that covered the hatches. One 
of these was laid flat on the deck and the other se- 
cured upright against the poop rail. 

Meanwhile, the captain had been handed a list 
of offenders on the report by the master at arms — 
the ship’s policeman. “Tompkins!” he called. 

196 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


“ Reported for spilling burgoo on the deck. Aye, 
we’ll teach you neatness on a man-o’-war ! ” 

Tompkins stepped forward from the huddle of 
seamen. 

“ Anything to say? ” 

“ No, sir, except that the man who reported me 
had a grudge to settle ” 

“ Shut up, or I’ll give you a hundred instead of 
a dozen ! Strip ! ” 

At the word Tompkins pulled off his shirt, 
advanced to the grating, and extended his arms 
upon it. 

“ Seize him up I ” cried the captain, and the 
quartermaster tied the culprit’s wrists to the grating. 
“ Seized up, sir! ” he reported. 

Then a boatswain’s mate stepped forward, tak- 
ing out of a bag a red-handled instrument that Miles 
immediately recognized as the “ cat,” or “ cat o’ 
nine tails.” 

“ Do your duty,” said the captain; “ give him a 
dozen.” 

Thereupon the executioner drew the cords 
through his fingers ; then, drawing back with the full 
sweep of his arm, he struck the bare back with ter- 
rible force. 

The victim gasped, and Miles noticed that every 
197 


14 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


cord left on the flesh its trail of blood. The first 
blow was followed by another till the round dozen 
was complete. 

By that time the back was cut and mangled till 
it looked like raw meat. Miles turned sick — as he 
had when he first saw blood in battle. But there 
was no excitement now to divert his attention. 

When the last stroke had fallen and the bruised 
wretch had been unlashed, he weakly raised his hand 
to wipe away the cold perspiration that blinded him, 
and then turned toward a young man in a lieuten- 
ant’s uniform who stood under the shadow of the 
quarter-deck, and, with a face quivering with passion, 
said: “ I’ll remember! ” The look was returned by 
one equally as vindictive, that changed to one of 
gloating as the captain roared: “ Give him five and 
twenty more ! ” 

The boatswain’s mates grabbed their victim just 
as he was about to sink to the deck, and he was again 
triced up to the grating. The first stroke brought 
a groan, and Miles found a relief in watching the 
face of the lieutenant whose enmity the sailor 
seemed to have aroused. He saw a bloated face 
still further disfigured by the ravages of unre- 
strained passion. The cleanness of Miles’s own bring- 
ing up made it impossible for him to analyze what 
198 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


he saw there, but the impression gained was a true 
one. He felt instinctively the cruelty of the hard- 
ened gaze of the thick-lidded eyes that were fixed on 
the quivering mass of flesh in front of him. Every 
stroke of the cat that sent a chill to Miles’s heart 
seemed to add to the sardonic smile on the lieuten- 
ant’s lips. 

When the twenty-five strokes had been told off, 
the culprit was again unlashed. This time two boat- 
swain’s mates were needed to support him. As they 
carried him away to the surgeon, a third drew the 
discarded shirt carelessly over his shoulders and 
turned to await further orders. 

There were other offenders on the list for the 
morning, but Miles crept away quietly, unable to bear 
another such exhibition. 

When the flogging of the other culprits was over, 
O’Rourke found Miles crouched under the rail, look- 
ing actually yellow with nausea. 

“What’s the matter?” laughed O’Rourke; 
“ you’re a greenhorn at a flogging, I fancy. I was 
that way first time, but this was less than forty, and 
even forty isn’t anything at all.” 

“You fellows like to call yourselves freeborn 
Britons,” said Miles, when he had braced up suffi- 
ciently to talk; “but beating a man’s back open be- 
199 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


cause he spilled some of that abominable stuff — any- 
way, that’s worse slavery than you’ll find anywhere 
in the world. No wonder your sailors desert.” 

“ Oh, come ! I told you these brutes won’t respect 
anything but blows, you can’t have any sort of disci- 
pline without the cat. You have it on your own little 
fighting tubs.” 

“ Nelson, I’ve heard, never used the cat, and he 
had the absolute devotion ” 

“ Pooh! I know you’ve got to use the cat, but 
of course it can be abused. What would you think 
of a man’s getting a hundred lashes instead of a 
dozen? I’ve seen that often. And worse than that 
is ‘ flogging through the fleet,’ when they take a poor 
brute from one ship to another till they’ve all had a 
chance. I’ve known a man to choose hanging from 
the yardarm rather’n take that punishment. The 
worst case I knew was once when a fellow came to 
the last ship he was found dead, with the meat 
on his back whipped off to the bones; and, as there 
were fifty lashes still due the man, the captain had 
them laid on, anyway. 

“ But now this case to-day; the fellow impressed 
me as having some sort of real grievance, but you 
never can tell. Carringford, the man he accused of 
being the author of his troubles, is capable of any 


200 


A CAPTIVE AGAIN 


sort of villainy, and Heaven help the men that serve 
under him when he gets his captain’s commission. 
However, the man who was flogged may be one 
of those insubordinate rascals that never can be 
tamed.” 

“Who’s Carringford ? ” inquired Miles. 

“ That officer — leftenant — standing near the cap- 
tain.” 

“ Egad, I believe he’d be capable of anything. 
He has as brutal a phiz as any of your forecastle 
hands.” 

“ He is a rascal. I’ll find an opportunity to try 
his metal when I get a chance ashore; there’s no 
love lost between him and me, I warrant you. Keep 
out of his way to avoid trouble, because one of his 
pet aversions is the Yankee nation. He seems to 
have a grudge against the whole of you rebels.” 

“ Well,” laughed Miles, “ before I met Dr. Mc- 
Grath at Dartmoor and a certain red-haired Irish- 
man I could name, I felt about the same regarding 
all Britishers. My family had a hard experience 
with one before the war — one of your naval gentle- 
men, too.” 

O’Rourke was interested immediately and Miles 
told the story of the young lieutenant, serving sen- 
tence of suspension, who passed himself off with 


201 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


forged letters of introduction as a lord and sponged 
on the hospitality of the Gadsdens. 

“ If I only knew the rascal’s real name, 

O’Rourke, I’d get you to help me find him and ” 

“ If I found the pup, Gadsdy, I wouldn’t leave 
you a bone of the spalpeen to whack at, bedad ! ” 
Afterwards, when flogging was on, which was 
almost a daily occurrence. Miles kept out of sight; 
and he resolved that if ever he reached his ambition 
and commanded a ship under the Stars and Stripes, 
he would throw the “ cat ” overboard. 


CHAPTER XV 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 

T he freedom Miles enjoyed, thanks to 
O’Rourke, gave him an unbroken leisure, part 
of which he devoted to studying his friend’s books 
on navigation, and learning all he could about man- 
of-war discipline. Naturally, he talked often with 
O’Rourke about his father, of whom he still knew 
nothing except that he had been at Dartmoor and 
that Dr. McGrath seemed to know more than he was 
willing to tell. The Irishman, however, protested 
that nothing out of the way could have happened. 

“ Why, if he was taken from Dartmoor, it 
was only to exchange him,” encouraged O’Rourke; 
‘‘what else, in Heaven’s name? Don’t worry over 
nothing ! ” 

This from his friend did cheer up Miles consid- 
erably, and he needed cheer in many ways. The days 
spent in company with O’Rourke or his genial coun- 
tryman, Dr. Castleman, were pleasant enough, but 
203 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


every night when Miles rolled into his bunk he knew 
that he was one day nearer the ghastly prison from 
which he had escaped with such difficulty only a few 
months before. This O’Rourke realized, too, but he 
was careful to avoid anything that might suggest the 
dreary walls of Dartmoor to his friend’s mind, and 
talked hopefully of a near conclusion of the war. 

After a while Miles had had so much cheering 
treatment that he began to feel pretty sure of his 
father’s safety. One day, however, Carringford, 
who had hitherto ignored Miles and had no dealings 
with O’Rourke, deliberately sauntered across the 
deck to where Miles was standing, leaning against a 
gun. 

“You name is Gadsden, I believe?” he said in- 
solently. 

Miles boiled, but he knew that, for his friend’s 
sake, he must keep his temper. 

“ Aye,” he replied indifferently. 

“ I wondered if you happened to know anything 
about a fellow named Gadsden — a privateer captain, 
I think — ^who was taken by one of our sloops early 
in the war and hanged as a pirate? ” Carringford 
put the question gently, almost politely. 

Miles was thrown completely off his guard. 
“ What was his ship? ” he gasped anxiously. 

204 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


“ Let me see,” reflected the Englishman, survey- 
ing Miles’s agitation with a covert smile. “ Let — me 
— see — it was — oh, yes, the Eagle! ” 

Are you sure? ” cried Miles, his heart thump- 
ing wildly. 

“ True enough,” sneered his tormentor, “ caught 
without any letters of marque, and that’s piracy. I’m 
sorry, though, for apparently he is some relative of 
yours.” And Carringford left Miles and strolled 
forward. 

“Hanged!” The thoughts whirled dizzily 
through Miles’s head while he struggled to think 
clearly. Was Carringford lying? Was it — no, it 
couldnU be true 1 But how did he know the name 
of the vessel and the time of the capture? The name, 
at least. Miles knew he had never mentioned to 
O’Rourke; and he, for that matter, had never before 
exchanged a word with Carringford. Ah! and was 
that why Dr. McGrath had suddenly grown unre- 
sponsive to Miles’s eager questioning? The lad felt 
as if a great mass of lead lay on his heart; he buried 
his face in his hands with hot tears trickling through 
his fingers, not caring who saw him. 

When O’Rourke found him half an hour later 
he had not moved. To his friend’s sympathetic ques- 
tioning Miles poured out his heart, but no cheering 
205 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


words of his friend were able to lift the melancholy 
Carringford had so suddenly thrown upon him. The 
more Miles reflected, the more the miserable story 
seemed likely to be true ; and yet, time and again, he 
would spring to his feet with clenched hands, crying, 
“ It isn’t true, it can^ t be true ! ” 

Since leaving Wilhelmstad, Miles had not been 
feeling in top-notch condition, and this new worry 
completed the work of the tropical sun. A few days 
after Carringford’s story, he awoke one morning 
with a splitting headache and a high fever. Dr. Cas- 
tleton, after an examination, promptly ordered him 
to the sick bay, a small room on the gun deck in the 
very eyes of the ship, where there was better ven- 
tilation than anywhere else below decks. The follow- 
ing day the fever increased and for the next ten days 
he continued to suffer all the discomforts of a bad 
bilious attack. O’Rourke was a constant visitor, 
doing his best to cheer his disconsolate friend, until 
an incident occurred that led Dr. Castleton to pro- 
hibit his calls. 

It was the afternoon of a day when Miles’s fever 
seemed to have abated somewhat that O’Rourke ap- 
proached Miles’s hammock, chuckling and shaking 
with merriment. “ Oh, I’d have given a thousand 
guineas, Gadsden, to have had you on deck just 
206 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


now! D’ye mind the big African you brought 
aboard? ” 

“ Yes, Herk. What of him? ” answered Miles, 
interested at once. 

“ Well, there’s a big Norwegian aboard, named 
Knetsen, who is a perfect bull of a fellow. He has 
whipped his way to be cock o’ the walk in the 
fo’c’s’le; and, since your blackie came, some of those 
who had been thumped have been hoping that a de- 
liverer had arrived, so they arranged for a fight be- 
tween the two giants. Carringford, you know, is a 
pet nephew of the captain’s, and as soon as he got 
wind of the thing he worked it so that the old man 
agreed to let ’em have a regular gladiator affair on 
the fo’c’s’le.” 

“ Did Herk kill him or just cripple him? ” asked 
Miles, at which O’Rourke laughed heartily and con- 
tinued : 

“ Well, as I say, they gathered forward and 
formed a ring with the two big brutes in the middle, 
and the greatest brute of ’em all, Carringford, cir- 
cling around inside the ring, making himself as of- 
ficious and obnoxious as usual. No other man of his 
rank would have thought of mixing in with the rab- 
ble. The rest of us got positions of vantage in the 
shrouds, on the rails, and anywhere we could. Well, 
207 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the nigger kept protesting that he ‘ didn’t want to 
hurt de gemman none,’ until the Scandinavian waded 
into him and thumped him a belt just over the ear 
that would have killed a wild ox of the moors. 

“ Then the Norwegian drew back and danced 
about with a broken hand. The nigger looked at 
him, and, my word, I believe he was more dazed with 
surprise than with the effects of the blow. Then, 
with a bellow, he made a rush for poor Knetsen that 
knocked three men down the ladder and sent about 
a dozen more sprawling over the deck and against 
the rail. The crowd broke for safety, but there 
wasn’t much room, and when they swung away from 
the two fighters I saw blackie’s foot fly out and strike 
Carringford in the pit of the stomach and send him 
doubled up like a jackknife against the rail. It was 

apparently ac-ac-accidental, but ” 

O’Rourke stopped to indulge in a paroxysm of 
laughter at thoughts of the scene. 

“ Then, then, ha, ha I the climax came. The black 
Goliath caught Knetsen by the seat of his breeches 
and by the nape of the neck, thrust him for’ard, drew 
him back, gave him a yo-heave-ho, and catapulted him 
over the larboard rail into the briny 1 ” 

At this point, unnoticed by either. Dr. Castleton 
entered. Miles was leaning on one elbow, drinking 
208 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


in every word of O’Rourke’s recital with dancing 
eyes and parted lips. 

O’Rourke was seated on a chest, rocking back and 
forth, with his hands pressed to his sides and roaring 
with laughter. 

“Here!” snorted the doctor; “this is fine be- 
havior for a sick bay, Terence I You may have done 
damage that cannot be undone — don’t you know that 
excitement is a dangerous tonic for a fever patient? ” 

O’Rourke sobered instantly as he saw Miles fall 
back weakly, almost in a faint, as the reaction from 
the excitement of the incident set in, and immediately 
he arose to go. 

“ Tell him,” he whispered, “ that they fished 
Knetsen back aboard considerably the worse for his 
beating and ducking. Tell him, too, that Carring- 
ford lost ten guineas on the fight and ” 

“ Clear out, blatherskite 1 ” growled Castleton, 
and O’Rourke fled. 

The following morning as O’Rourke came up the 
ladder he saw Dr. Castleton seated on the forward 
hatch, puffing on a little Limerick dudeen, and at once 
went over to inquire as to Miles’s condition. 

“ He’s a sick lad, he is,” said Castleton, “ and it’s 
a shame to think of his staying on this old hulk only 
to face that hell at Dartmoor prison once more.” 

209 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Indeed it is. He may not be exchanged for 
months — aye, years, and they’ll all but kill him for 
escaping.” 

“ Yes; and one thing that may make it go ill with 
him is the fact that he takes his imprisonment so 
much to heart. Then, you see he has been down in 
the tropics, and there’s no telling what sort of poisons 
are in his system.” 

“By Jibs’l, I’ve got it!” ejaculated O’Rourke. 
The other looked at him questioningly. 

“ The boy’ll die, d’ye mind, if he’s not set ashore. 
You, as a doctor,” this with a wink, “ know that it’s 
bloody murder to keep him aboard ship when we’re 
only a few days from sightin’ the Azores. Another 
thing I came near overlookin’ : he’s just long enough 
from the Indies to be showin’ symptoms of the hor- 
rible yellow jack. He’s got it — I know he’s got it! 
I feel it in me bones, and you, I say, as a professional 
diagnoser of human ills, know it twice as sure as 
gun’s iron ! ” 

“ But the symptoms of yellow fever are ” 

“ Oh, I know all about that ! ” interrupted 
O’Rourke. “ He’s got every blessed one of them to 
an alarmin’ degree.” He poked his friend in the ribs 
with his thumb and winked emphatically again. 

“ You know the skipper will hate to lose the op- 


210 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


portunity of seeing as nice a boy as Gadsden go back 
to Dartmoor, but if the ship’s surgeon says he must 
be set ashore, and insists in the name of humanity, 
he might possibly agree, though ‘ I ha’e me doots I ’ 
But if that same ship’s surgeon goes to him in a panic 
and tells him that there is a possibility of an epidemic 
of yellow fever, I think there’s a good guessing that 
Gadsden’ll be bundled ashore in a trice.” 

After this the doctor and O’Rourke might have 
been seen in earnest conversation several times, but 
as to the subject they discussed — not even Miles had 
an inkling until later in the plot. The young Irishman 
kept a keen eye on the ship’s bearings, and hastened 
to report to the doctor when the Azores were but a 
day’s sailing away. Castleton proceeded to the cap- 
tain’s cabin with a tremendously worried look on his 
face, and was closeted with him for over an hour. 
When he reappeared, O’Rourke was anxiously wait- 
ing for him by the poop ladder, but was reassured by 
a gentle quiver of Castleton’s left eyelid. The two 
went down to the surgeon’s cabin where they could 
talk without fear of being heard. 

“ The captain was soreheaded when I mentioned 
Gadsden,” began Castleton, “ and cursed him fluently 
for ten minutes for making trouble. Wouldn’t hear 
of putting him ashore — ‘ most irregular proceeding. 


2II 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Dartmoor too good for scurvy Yankees, anyway.’ 
But when I got down to a confidential whisper — 
about ‘ West Indies,’ ‘ yellow jack,’ ‘ suspicious 
symptoms ’ — Egad, he turned yellow with fright 
himself! ” 

“ Put him ashore to-morrow — anything — ought 
to be heaved overboard this minute! ” he croaked in 
a panic — “ There, now, Terence, don’t you laugh, 
you blithering numskull — ” he added warningly, as 
O’Rourke showed alarming symptoms. “ You make 
too much noise. Nobody must suspect anything, not 
even Gadsden.” 

O’Rourke was on watch at sunrise the following 
morning and hailed with delight the tapering vol- 
canic cone of Mt. Pico, the outpost of Europe, stand- 
ing high above the clouds. All the morning the 
frigate skirted the high green shores of the islands. 
Shortly after noon the mountainous banks over 
their port side parted, disclosing a beautiful semi- 
circular harbor, shut in by high green hills, at whose 
feet lay rows upon rows of whitewashed houses, look- 
ing in the distance like the broken seats of an old 
amphitheater. The Achilles altered her course and 
entered the harbor, and O’Rourke did not need 
to be told that they had arrived at the island of 
Fayal. 


212 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


Hastening below to the sick boy, he found Cas- 
tleton getting Miles ready to go ashore. The boy 
was too weak to stand, or even sit up for any length 
of time, and Castleton was putting some clothes on 
him and wrapping his legs in a blanket. 

“ I don’t understand this,” said Miles weakly, 
“ we haven’t got to Plymouth yet, have we? ” 

“No, this is Fayal, Azores — you know; we are 
going to dump you on the Yankee consul here.” 

“ But I still don’t understand ! ” 

“ Don’t have to — just shut up and lie still.” 
“Tell him,” put in O’Rourke, “to remember 
that he is nearly dead, and not to look too lively 
while we’re taking him ashore. And if he knows 

what yellow jack looks like ” 

“ Dry up — not so loud,” warned the surgeon. 

A light began to dawn on Miles. He grinned 
appreciatively. “ By Jove, you fellows are good — ” 
he began, when suddenly the quartermaster came to 
the door. Miles promptly closed his eyes, and as the 
four seamen carried him up on deck and down the 
gangway to the cutter, he moaned pathetically from 
time to time, or mumbled a few incoherent words. 
His fever was still high and he felt light-headed 
enough, but he knew that he must play his part in 
the little plot. 


15 


213 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


When they had laid him out in the stern sheets 
of the cutter, with Castleton in command, Miles’s 
heart suddenly stood still as he heard above him the 
rasping voice of Carringford : 

“ What the devil are they doing with that ras- 
cally Yankee down there? ” 

“ Taking him ashore, sir,” replied the sergeant 
of marines, “ he’s like to die.” 

“Damme, let him die here, then; I’ll wager a 
month’s pay O’Rourke is at the bottom of this — 
Where’s the captain?” 

“Give way!” called O’Rourke, and “Give 
way I ” echoed Castleton, and to Miles’s relief the 
cutter shot away from the sides of the ship. Miles 
could hear his enemy cursing eloquently, but it was 
soon too late to bring the cutter back. In a few 
minutes her crew boated their oars and swung in true 
man-of-war’s style alongside the quay. 

The captain of the Achilles had already signaled 
ashore for the American consul, with the request 
that he be prepared to receive a dying countryman, 
and as Miles looked up on the wharf he saw a florid, 
kindly face with eyes bent on his own. 

The surgeon went ashore first and spoke in low 
tones to the consul. The latter looked relieved, and, 
turning to Miles, he said brightly : 

214 


BAD NEWS FOR MILES 


“ I am Consul Dabney, Mr. Gadsden; you’re to 
come home with me and get patched up.” 

A carriage was waiting, Into which Miles was 
gently laid. He had no chance to say good-by be- 
yond pressing the hand of O’Rourke and a whis- 
pered “ God bless you — ^both,” when the two Irish- 
men were gone, and he found himself jolting over 
the rough pavements of the little Portuguese city. 

After a torturing five-minutes’ ride. Miles was re- 
lieved by the stopping of the carriage. The door 
was flung open and he was carried gently indoors 
Into a cool, darkened room. He heard Dabney 
speaking and a woman’s answer near him In a sym- 
pathetic motherly tone. Under the sudden let down 
from the high nervous tension of the past hour, com- 
bined with the fever. Miles suddenly lost conscious- 


ness. 


CHAPTER XVI 


AMONG FRIENDS 

W HEN Miles regained clear consciousness, 
after three days of feverish tossing, during 
which he imagined himself back in the low-studded 
sick bay aboard the Achilles, he opened his eyes 
to an airy room with flaming geraniums in the win- 
dows, through which he saw the blue water. Oppo- 
site his bed hung a lithograph portrait of Washing- 
ton. 

Where was he ? Slowly, piece by piece, he tried 
to put scraps of his recollections together. He re- 
membered at last that O’Rourke had told him that 
he was to be put ashore at Fayal in care of the 
American consul. Later there came to him a con- 
fused recollection of going ashore in a boat and 
being brought into a house. This place then must 
be the consul’s residence. He dropped asleep again 
for an hour and awoke to see a lady standing over 
him with a dish of something steaming hot. 

216 


AMONG FRIENDS 


“ Ah, Mr. Gadsden, you are very much better to- 
day, aren’t you? ” 

“ You have the advantage of me,” said Miles, 
weakly smiling; “I haven’t the least idea who you 
are, but I know you have been taking good care of 
me. 

The other laughed cheerily. “ Let me intro- 
duce myself,” she said. “ I am Mrs. Dabney, wife 
of the American consul in Fayal. We are only too 
delighted to take a brave countryman into our 
home,” and she passed her hand over Miles’s fore- 
head. “ Your fever has gone. You were a pretty 
sick boy when you came, and you mustn’t talk now, 
or you won’t get any better. No fretting, no worry- 
ing — just sleep and rest.” 

The voice and manner reminded Miles of his 
mother. 

He took the slender hand in his and kissed the 
finger tips, at which Mrs. Dabney bent over and 
stroked his brow in a motherly fashion that went to 
his heart. He took the broth she gave him, and 
as his head fell back on the pillow he drew a great 
sigh of content. It seemed so long since he had slept 
in a comfortable bed, or heard a feminine voice. 
He had suddenly, in this out-of-the-way place, 
dropped into a real home. It meant almost as much 
217 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


to him as his own home, and his heart went out to 
this gentle, kindly hostess. 

Thanks to the quiet and the skillful nursing. 
Miles was soon on his feet. 

Many a pleasant afternoon during the month 
that followed he spent chatting with the Dabneys 
over events of the war, or strolling about the quaint 
city of the Azores and the surrounding country with 
their son, a boy of fifteen. 

On the subject of his father. Miles found ready 
sympathy from his warm-hearted host; and Mr. 
Dabney made this point which Miles found comfort- 
ing, namely: that the hanging of any American pri- 
vateersman, unless proper cause was clearly shown, 
would naturally provoke reprisal on the part of the 
United States, and that no nation would risk its own 
captives if its action were not clearly justified. Of 
course, the idea of Miles’s father turning pirate was 
so absurd that it would have struck the lad as comi- 
cal if there was not such a terrible probability that 
the charge had been actually made and the sentence 
executed. 

From Mr. Dabney, also. Miles learned of the 
progress of the war, especially the great victories on 
Lake Erie, and Lake Champlain, news of the latter 
having arrived just about the time Miles recovered. 

218 


AMONG FRIENDS 


To counteract the pride he felt In the naval victories 
of the war, he had to learn with humiliation of the 
blundering incapacity of most of the army opera- 
tions and the burning of Washington. Even the 
story of the bravery of his friend, Captain Barney, 
at the disgraceful rout of Bladensburg, hardly les- 
sened the shame of it all. 

‘‘ How gloriously our navy has shown up ! ” ex- 
claimed Miles. “ I was wild to get a middy’s warrant, 
but failed. Had to be satisfied with privateering.” 

“ Don’t be ashamed of that, my boy,” replied 
Mr. Dabney; “ glorious as our little navy has proved 
itself, it is now bottled up idle in all the ports of the 
coast by the enemy’s blockading fleet, while hundreds 
of privateers are still terrorizing British commerce 
and making the merchants of London cry for peace 
with America at any price. Some of our privateers- 
men are a ruffian lot; but, as a whole, our privateers 
are fighting our cause for us more than our army 
and navy combined. If you have served on the 
Comet you have good reason to be proud of the 
fact.” 

“ Indeed I am,” assented Miles warmly, and the 
conversation turned toward the possibility of the 
war’s coming to an end soon. 

When Mr. Dabney learned that Miles was fond 
219 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


of fencing, he asked him to teach his son Charles, 
and Miles, eager to do anything for his friend, de- 
voted himself to making his young pupil learn the 
use of the blade. Mr. Dabney, like Lusson, be- 
lieved that the old-fashioned “ small sword ” was 
the only gentleman’s weapon and despised the pistol. 
For Miles the teaching was a renewal of the practice 
he had dropped for over a year and at first he found 
himself alarmingly rusty. When not engaged in 
sword practice, Miles and Charles Dabney roamed 
the rugged hillsides around the town, leading a fine, 
outdoor life that soon brought Miles back into the 
pink of condition. 

Several times during the weeks that followed 
Miles’s recovery he complained to Mr. Dabney of 
being idle at a time when his country needed every 
man. He had, perhaps, also a father’s death to 
avenge. 

“ Well,” remarked the other after Miles had 
been speaking in this vein, “ we shall be sorry to see 
you go, but we know how you feel. It won’t be 
long, I think, before one of our Yankee privateers 
comes into the harbor, and they’ll be glad enough to 
ship you aboard. In fact, two of them turned up 
while you were still sick abed.” 

On this chance Miles built his hopes. About a 


220 


AMONG FRIENDS 


week later, as Miles and Mr. Dabney were turning 
back home for tea, after an afternoon’s walk on 
the sea-wall, the latter stopped suddenly and looked 
sharply at a smart brig that was just then rounding 
the high promontory at the harbor entrance. 

“My word, that looks like a Yankee now! — 
She is indeed!” he cried excitedly as the flag be- 
came distinct. “ I believe that’s the Enterprise, 
though I don’t see how she happens to turn up 
here.” 

They hurried to the pier, for Dabney said that 
the captain would pay a call as soon as he had an- 
chored. Sure enough, as they stood watching her, 
the gig shot out from her side and headed for the 
quay in smart man-of-war style. 

“ My word, that looks like — ” ejaculated Dab- 
ney, as he peered at the figure in the stern-sheets 
through his glass — “ It can’t be — yes, it’s old Sam 
Reid!” 

Up flew the oars in exact unison and the boat 
swung alongside. 

“ Hullo, Dabney! ” cried Captain Reid. “ Came 
ashore to hear the news, and pass the time of day ! ” 
The two men clasped hands, and greeted each other 
warmly. 

“ Here, Reid,” said Dabney, turning to Miles, 


221 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


who stood at a short distance aside, “ here’s a fel- 
low-countryman, Mr. Gadsden, of Annapolis. He 
wants to ship with you, if you’ll let him.” 

Reid looked sharply at the lad, and seemed sat- 
isfied with what he saw. 

“ How do you happen to be here, Mr. Gads- 
den? ” he inquired as the three turned up the street 
to the consul’s residence. Miles told the story 
briefly, and added that he was anxious to get into 
active service again. 

“ All right, my boy, ship with me ; but you’ll 
have to be a supernumerary as you were on the 
Comet,''' he added with a laugh. “ I can promise 
you plenty of fight, anyway.” 

“ Reid, what’s your ship this time? ” asked Dab- 
ney. 

‘‘The General Armstrong, Dab; ain’t she a 
beauty? Regular man-o’-war style she is, and man- 
o’-war discipline we have on board, too. I’d back 
her against any corvette of the British navy.” 

“ I took her for one of our regular sloops, the 
Enterprise,^* said Dabney. “ Is this her maiden ven- 
ture? ” 

“Maiden nothing! Man, she’s famous! She 
was under Captain Champlain last year, and fought 
a long stand-up fight with a heavy sloop of war. 


222 


AMONG FRIENDS 


ril tell you the tale when you come to dine in my 
cabin this evening.” 

After a glass of native wine at the Dabneys’, 
Captain Reid announced that he must return. 

“ I want that fresh water shipped aboard as 
early to-morrow morning as you can get it to me, 
Dab; and, Mr. Gadsden, suppose you come aboard 
with me this evening and see my little brig before 
dinner? ” 

“ Thank you, sir, I shall be delighted,” replied 
Miles, and back they strolled to the pier. 

“ By Je-hosh-a-phat I ” exclaimed the burly cap- 
tain as he came in sight of the harbor. Around the 
promontory swung lazily a large man-of-war brig 
with the ensign of England drooping at her gaff in 
the light air. 

‘‘ There’s a Johnny Bull, twice the size of the 
General Armstrong. Got what I bragged I wanted, 
didn’t I? — and more, too!” He grinned ruefully. 
“ Harkee, Dab, do you think she’ll respect the neu- 
trality of the port? ” 

“ Why, yes, Reid, England and Portugal are very 
friendly, and the English aren’t likely to insult an 
ally.” 

“ H’m, by the same token, England wouldn’t 
mind taking liberties with a sniveling little nation 
223 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


she has shown favors to. Well, let ’em try it. 
I’ve got some fellows on board that can put up as 
pretty a fight as they want.” 

Miles, excited at the prospect of adventure, 
eagerly followed Captain Reid into the gig. On 
the way over, the latter was silent, eying the Brit- 
ish ship sourly the while. 

Arriving on board, Reid introduced Miles to his 
three officers — Worth, Williams, and Johnson — all 
young for their duties, but fine, self-reliant speci- 
mens of manhood that made Miles proud of his 
countrymen. 

After the first greetings. Miles spoke to Mr. 
Williams, the second officer. 

“ What do you think of our friend, the enemy? ” 

“Don’t trust ’em,” replied the other; “there’s 
the first luff and the old man talking it over on the 
fo’c’s’le.” 

“Look!” cried Miles, but no one needed the 
word. Evidently the enemy had learned from 
the pilot-boat that the General Armstrong was a 
Yankee privateer, for she suddenly cut her cable 
and made sail, anchoring nearer the Armstrong, 
and in such a position as to cut off escape from the 
harbor. 

“ Mischief afoot to-night,” said Reid to Wil- 
224 


AMONG FRIENDS 


liams as he passed Miles, “ but they won’t find us 
napping ! ” 

All liberty ashore was forbidden for that night 
and, instead, the men went about quietly clearing 
the ship for action. 

The sun had just set when a muffled exclamation 
drew Miles’s eye from the English brig. There, 
with sails silhouetted against the sunset sky, came 
two more ships, a frigate and a razee, all flying 
English colors. 

“ Whew, but we are in for it I ” said Miles to 
himself, with something of a gasp. 

As soon as the two strangers entered the harbor, 
the three exchanged signals for several minutes. 

“ I can’t read them signals,” said a lanky tar to 
his mate near Miles, “ but I’ll bet all my cruise 
money that the brig says she’s bottled up a darned 
Yankee privateer and would like permission to eat 
us alive.” 

As dusk settled on the harbor the English brig 
began getting out her boats with a considerable stir 
on her decks, which was not common to a peaceful 
ship just anchored in a friendly harbor. 

A small boat now put off from shore and fairly 
jumped through the water to the side of the General 
Armstrong. It came alongside, its single occupant 
225 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


swung up on her boom, and asked breathlessly for 
Captain Reid. 

“ Why, it’s young Dabney,” said the captain. 
“ What news?” 

“ Father sent me to tell you to look out for your- 
self to-night. There will be trouble with that Eng- 
lish brig, the Carnation, He says the Portuguese 
governor is too much of a coward to interfere. 
Father says to get in close under the castle.” 

“ Thankee, lad,” replied Reid, “ my compli- 
ments to your father. Now, you can’t be too quick 
about getting ashore again.” 

The boy was off in a twinkling. He was chal- 
lenged by the cockswain of one of the boats of the 
Carnation, but he passed without reply and the Eng- 
lishman dared not fire. 

Acting on the advice of Dabney, Reid ordered 
the anchor tripped, and as there was not enough air 
stirring to use sails, he got out the huge sweeps. 
Slowly, but steadily, the privateer forged ahead. 
Night had fallen, but the moon was just rising in a 
cloudless sky, and it seemed almost as bright as day. 

As Miles stood on a gun in the waist of the ship, 
watching the Carnation, he saw, immediately after 
Reid’s maneuver, a bracing of the yards and heard 
the pipe of the boatswain’s whistle. 

226 


AMONG FRIENDS 


“ I think, sir,” he said to Captain Reid, who was 
passing, “ they are trying to make sail after us.” 

“ Aye, very likely,” and he glanced at the droop- 
ing sails. “ Mr. Gadsden, will you assist Mr. Worth 
in breaking out the muskets and ammunition? Offi- 
cers and men on this vessel will hereafter move 
silently, and not speak above a whisper.” 

Miles hurried to obey. They passed the order 
to the gunner and saw to it that the proper ammuni- 
tion lay ready beside the guns, and the muskets were 
served out to the men who stood in readiness at their 
quarters. While he was busy in the magazine, the 
watch had cleared ship for battle, and the boatswain 
had silently summoned the men to their stations. 

Miles buckled on a brace of pistols, selected a 
well-balanced cutlass from the racks, and took the 
station assigned to him in the forward division of 
guns. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 

S EEING that he could not reach the position he 
desired before the boarders would be upon him, 
Reid gave the order to let go the anchor, and bend 
springs on the cable, so that he might wind the ship 
around and bring a broadside to bear if the enemy- 
appeared astern or under her bows. 

Miles saw that the Carnation, which had been 
making sad work of it with her sails in the dead air, 
had lowered four boats. 

“ What do you make out, Mr. Gadsden? ” asked 
Reid; “ can you see arms in the boats? ” 

“ Aye, aye, sir, they are armed to the teeth and 
every boat is crowded — twenty-five or thirty men to 
a boat.” 

“ Muffled oars, too, eh? I guess they think we 
are all asleep.” 

Reid turned and went back to the twenty- four- 
pounder “ long Tom,” mounted on a swivel in the 
228 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


waist of the ship. When the leading boat got within 
hail, he called out: 

“ Ahoy, aboard that boat. Keep away from 
here or I’ll sink you I ” 

No response. 

Twice Captain Reid repeated the warning, but 
the Englishmen only pulled the harder, and Miles 
could hear distinctly the order of the lieutenant in the 
leading boat — “ Give ’way, men ! ” 

Suddenly he heard a thunderous “ Bang ! ” 

The boat he was eying intently split up in pieces, 
with its occupants struggling in the water. Captain 
Reid could not have aimed his swivel more fairly. 

In the midst of the excitement following the de- 
struction of the boat. Miles saw an officer stand up 
in the foremost cutter. He waved his sword at 
those following and yelled: 

“ Let them have it — FIRE! ” 

Above the confused cries and exclamations of the 
men struggling about the wreckage of the splintered 
boat, the order rang out over the moonlit waters of 
the little bay. Miles saw the men about him stoop 
for the protection of the bulwarks, and instinctively 
he, too, stooped till he felt that his head was below 
the hammock nettings. There came an irregular rat- 
tle of musketry, and he heard the singing of the bul- 
16 229 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


lets over the ship’s side. He had caught his breath 
quickly at the pop of the first gun. Now he let it 
out quickly with a great sigh of relief at finding him- 
self unharmed. As he straightened up he saw in the 
boats several standing figures silhouetted against the 
dancing light on the water; he heard a mixture of 
confused calls and commands, when, suddenly, he 
saw flash — flash — flash — from three of the silhou- 
ettes. A bullet spanged into the mast back of him, 
and he saw Lieutenant Worth clasp his hand to his 
side and fall on one knee. 

“ Help him below ! ” called Miles to two of the 
men who had jumped to Worth’s aid. 

The rattle of the muskets all along the ship’s side 
continued, when suddenly in a moment’s lull in the 
firing he heard a voice crying : 

“Quarter! Quarter!” 

“ Peering over the bulwarks he saw that two of 
the boats had got within half-pistol shot. In the 
nearer of the two boats was an officer standing with 
only three or four of his boat’s crew on the thwarts, 
while the rest were huddled in pitiful confusion or 
sprawling over the gunwales. 

“ Quarter! ” again cried the officer as he waved 
his cocked hat. 

Miles heard Reid cry: “ Cease firing! ” 

230 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


“ Cease firing ! ” repeated Miles as he sprang 
forward to knock up a musket in the hands of a tall 
young sailor who was resting his piece on the bul- 
warks. The shattered boats pulled away as the men 
aboard the General Armstrong for a moment broke 
discipline, and started to crowd to the side to watch 
the receding barges. 

“ Back to your stations ! ” shouted Reid, and they 
sprang back to their posts. 

Captain Reid walked the length of the deck and 
made a hurried inspection of the damage done. 

He then hauled in close to the beach, where he 
moored head and stern within half cable’s length of 
the governor’s castle, and again prepared to receive 
an attack. 

“ You will take Johnson’s place as acting third 
lieutenant,” Captain Reid said to Miles. “ I have 
put Williams at Worth’s station and Johnson is act- 
ing as second lieutenant in Williams’s place.” 

Miles was, of course, grateful for the confidence 
reposed in him; but there was no time for any ex- 
change of civilities, so he hurried to his new post as 
Reid began delivering instructions to the gun crew 
of the “ Ir.xg Tom.” 

As the survivors of the cutting-out party regained 
their ship, there were angry shouts and oaths that 
231 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 

could be heard above the calm water. Lights 
twinkled. Suddenly rockets shot up in quick succes- 
sion, answered by a flash from the flagship of the 
squadron. Then from the Carnation again came 
sounds of bustling activity — creaking blocks, shouts 
of the officers and mates, and the rattle of davits. 
There was now no effort at concealment. The sur- 
prise attack had failed; now a force should be sent 
that would overwhelm the Yankees by sheer weight 
of numbers. 

Anxiously the Americans waited the onset, but 
the minutes went by in silence. At the first sound of 
shots the townspeople had come tumbling out of their 
cafes and dance halls, looking for advantageous po- 
sitions from which to witness the fighting. From his; 
station Miles could hear their excited chatter on the 
housetops near by; for these people. Miles reflected, 
the coming slaughter was simply a theatrical enter- 
tainment, and it seemed to him, for the minute, that 
he hated them more than the enemy he was soon to 
be fighting. 

In order to relieve the nervous tension of wait- 
ing, Captain Reid found this and that detail to be 
attended to. Miles was ordered to haul taut the 
boarding nettings on the port side. These Miles had 
never seen rigged before; they were stout nets, made 
232 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


of one-inch rope and about ten feet wide, spread 
along the bulwarks, and made fast to the shrouds 
and the yardarms. They were an admirable form 
of defense in the boat attack which was expected, 
for the boarders would have to climb up the sheer 
side of the vessel and cut their way through the net- 
tings before they could set foot on the deck of the 
Armstrong, 

Miles knew that Reid’s case was a hopeless one, 
but the more he thought of the difficulties the Eng- 
lishmen would face, in spite of their superior num- 
bers, the more he felt that there would be a desperate 
struggle before the end came. The four nine-pound- 
ers on the port broadside were loaded with grape, 
and the twenty-four-pounder had a stand of grape 
added to her round shot. These were certain to do 
fearful execution in the boats at close range as they 
came on in the bright moonlight. 

While Miles was in the midst of these reflections, 
a small boat came out of the shadows near the shore, 
and made directly for the privateer. 

Miles hailed, and recognized, in reply, the 
voice of Charles Dabney. Once more the messen- 
ger scrambled on board and reported to Captain 
Reid. 

The captain called the officers aft: 

233 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Gentlemen,” said he, “ Mr. Dabney has made 
formal protest to the governor of Fayal against the 
conduct of the Carnation in attacking us. The gov- 
ernor protested to Captain Lloyd of the Carnation 
as well as to the captains of the Rota and the Plan- 
tagenet^ which, it seems, are the names of the frigate 
and the razee with her. He has received word that 
Lloyd will take us if he has to knock the town to 
pieces! You know what to expect from him. You 
know what I expect from youP 

“Aye, aye, sir!” was the murmured response, 
and the three went back to their stations. 

About nine o’clock Miles’s keen eye saw the Car- 
nation begin to draw in shore, towing twelve heav- 
ily loaded barges in her wake. He quickly reported 
to Captain Reid, who watched the enemy for a mo- 
ment through his night glass. 

“ Ha ! ” he said, “ she has anchored and the boats 
have cast loose. We are in for it again ! Lloyd is 
such a reckless fool that he is known as “ Mad ” 
Lloyd, and you may be sure he’ll stop at nothing to 
take us. They’re coming, lads ! ” 

The men, high-strung, impatient at the delay, 
welcomed the news with a subdued murmur that 
would have been a cheer under different circum- 
stances. 


234 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


“ Here, Gadsden,” said Williams at his elbow, 
take off that lubberly hat of yours and put this on. 
It’s the only thing in a boarding scrimmage. Cap- 
tain Reid sent it.” 

Miles took it. It was the head gear devised and 
worn by the American seamen in the War of 1812, 
a round bearskin cap with lappets that tied down, 
protecting the ears, and the crown distended by two 
flat hoops of steel laid crosswise. 

He had hardly settled it on his head when 
‘‘ click, click ” came the sound of oarlocks so dis- 
tinctly that both he and Williams jumped to their 
stations. 

There was no effort at concealment or surprise. 
On swept the twelve long barges in line, each with a 
howitzer in the bow. Miles climbed up on a gun, 
and, by counting the men in the foremost boat, he 
made a rough reckoning of the advancing force. 

“ Whew I Four hundred at least I And ninety 
of us here ! ” 

He felt carefully of his pistols, laid his cutlass 
where he could pick it up instantly, and waited. 

Would Reid never fire the “ long Tom ”? 

“ Crash I ” A yell leaped from friend and foe 
as the charge tore through the foremost barge with 
fearful effect. For just an instant the attacking party 

235 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


wavered, for some of the grapeshot had flown well 
down the line. But the next minute they gave three 
rousing cheers and the boats sprang forward. 

Reid hurried to the rail, and then said in a low 
but tense tone that carried clear to the men at the 
bow chaser: 

“ Fire at will and reload quickly ! ” 

Miles repeated the order and the nine-pounders 
belched. Then he seized a powder boy by the arm 
and swung him at the ladder as he yelled: 

“ Tell ’em to rush those cartridges — they’re com- 
ing on again ! ” 

Then he turned to urge the gunners to more 
speed, though driving was not necessary, as the men 
at the guns were working with a will. The gun just 
opposite the after hatch was again ready first, and 
he saw an old, bush-browed gunner, naked to the 
waist and with his head tied up in a flaming ban- 
dana, touch a slow match to the primer and step back 
on his toes to avoid the jar of the concussion — the 
habit of an old man-of-war’ sman. With the thunder 
of the nine-pounders there came screams of agony 
from the water and cheers and jeering taunts from 
Reid's men. But, in a moment, as Miles looked over 
the bulwarks, he saw a boat so near the side of the 
ship that men with boat hooks in their hands were 
236 


A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


rising from the mass in the barge, ready to make fast 
alongside. 

All the boats were too near now for the “ long 
Tom ” and the nine-pounders to be depressed suf- 
ficiently to be directed on them. In another moment 
the boats deployed according to a well-planned 
scheme of attack, and all were menacing the side of 
the ship at the same instant. 

This was the first fighting at close quarters that 
Miles had ever seen. Under different circumstances 
he might have lost his head at first and cut and fired 
without deliberation, but during the long waiting he 
had come to realize the desperate nature of the com- 
ing fight and the necessity of making every stroke or 
shot count. 

He leaned over, fired into the boat below, and 
hurriedly reloaded. Suddenly it seemed as if the bul- 
warks were alive with scrambling figures. Miles 
made his two pistol shots count for two heads that 
loomed before him. The next instant he hurled his 
heavy pistol in the face of an officer who was draw- 
ing trigger on him. His pistols being useless, he 
grasped his cutlass, and cut and thrust at the writh- 
ing, struggling mass of invaders where nothing 
missed. He saw a man with a powder-blackened 
face, a cutlass in his teeth, climbing up the boarding 

237 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


netting in front of him. Instinctively he lunged at 
him, and felt his blade turn in his hand. He gripped 
it tightly and drew back. The man on the netting 
dropped backward, his cutlass rattled against the 
ship’s side, and he hung with one foot caught In the 
net. A sailor jabbed it with a pike and It disap- 
peared. Around him at first blazed the muskets of 
the privateersmen; then they swung their clubbed 
muskets and cutlasses, for there was no time to load. 
From the defenders came only a few hoarse growls 
and exclamations, for they had no breath to lose. 
But the English, exasperated at their failure to sweep 
the decks at the first onslaught, were cheering, shout- 
ing, cursing, screaming, while they hacked with cut- 
lasses at the obstinate nettings. From the deck came 
thrusts of cutlasses, pikes, and bayonets, or crushing 
blows from clubbed muskets and handspikes that sent 
the boarders either pitching downward on their com- 
rades, or Into the bloody water. Indeed, the constant 
splashing seemed to be always In Miles’s ears, and 
somewhere in the corner of his brain he was won- 
dering if one could count the casualties by the 
splashes, while the rest of his mind was concentrated 
in the fierce endeavor to beat down the enemy just 
opposite him. 

In spite of lightning cuts and thrusts, the group 
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A DESPERATE DEFENSE 


of attackers in front of him seemed to increase in size. 
Ah I Now they had cut a big gap in the nettings. 
Suddenly Miles caught a blow that knocked him back- 
ward, with a shower of stars in his eyes. A British 
cutlass had landed fair, but was deflected by the steel 
in his cap. 

The blow stunned him for a moment, but he 
struggled to his feet and staggered about wondering 
where he was and what had happened. His eye lit on 
his fallen cutlass, and as he saw its bloody point he 
partly came to himself, picked it up, and hurried to 
join the line of struggling men. Just at his side he 
heard a voice cry excitedly : 

“ Catch him — quick! ” 

Turning he saw Williams spin around, collapse at 
the knees, and fall into the arms of a little powder 
monkey, who staggered and caught at the fluke of 
the sheet anchor in an effort to steady himself under 
the weight that had struck him. The stricken man 
was laid in the forward hatch, a purple hole showing 
in the center of his forehead. Miles turned and 
looked about the deck in a dazed impulse to avenge 
the death of his comrade. 

To his dismay, he saw that the Americans on the 
forecastle were wavering. They were nearly ex- 
hausted by their continuous efforts, and they had seen 

239 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


their officers fall. Miles staggered forward with a 
shout of encouragement, but at that instant he heard 
the welcome voice of Captain Reid behind him. In 
a moment a reenforcement from the quarter-deck, led 
by the burly captain himself, swept by. There was 
a brief scuffle at the forward rail, then silence. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


DEFEAT WITH HONOR 

M iles looked up and down the deck. He 
could scarcely believe his eyes, but he saw 
not a single Englishman on the bulwarks. The at- 
tack of four against one had been repulsed I The 
reaction was so great that his knees suddenly gave 
way and he dropped utterly exhausted against the 
capstan. His eyes closed, and for a moment he lost 
consciousness. 

“Not much hurt, I hope?” a voice inquired 
anxiously, and as Miles sat up he saw Captain Reid 
bending over him. 

“ No, sir, I seemed to tucker out all at once,” he 
said weakly as he regained his feet and leaned 
against the capstan. 

“ Good; you’ll feel better in a few minutes. By 
George, you gave a good account of yourself, lad. 
Now I must find out how Worth and Johnson are.” 
241 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“Are they hurt? Poor Williams is dead, you 
know!” 

Reid, without replying, turned away. Miles 
glanced at the hatch at his back, but there 
was nothing there. Williams had been carried 
below. 

In a few minutes Miles was able to walk the 
length of the deck. He had the curious experience 
of being unable at first to relax his grip on the hilt 
of his cutlass. So long had he held it tightly 
grasped in his hand that it was a full five minutes 
before the fingers would open. 

As he walked aft, the sight that met his eyes 
was horrifying even in the merciful moonlight. 
Over the rail he could see in the distance five or six 
boats creeping with groaning loads back to the ships. 
Several of the barges had been sunk by cannon 
shot dropped into them, others still lay alongside, 
freighted only with the dead. 

The bulwarks, hacked and scorched, still hung 
with tattered remains of the boarding nettings — all 
dripping and dyed with the life blood of the brave 
Englishmen who had been sacrificed to “ Mad ” 
Lloyd’s terrible blunder. 

Miles met Captain Reid coming up from the 
cockpit. 


242 


DEFEAT WITH HONOR 


“ Are our losses heavy? ” — he began. 

“ Williams is killed, as you know, and both 
Worth and Johnson wounded. Burt Lloyd, a sea- 
man, got a bullet in the heart, and five others, in- 
cluding the quartermaster, have had trifling hurts — 
that’s all! Incredible, but it’s a fact!” In other 
words, the combined losses of the privateer during 
the two attacks had amounted to two killed and 
seven wounded; and the second attack had been 
followed by three quarters of an hour’s desperate 
hand-to-hand fighting! The British loss could only 
be guessed at, but Miles knew that it had been ap- 
palling. 

“ They won’t bother us again right away,” added 
Captain Reid, looking over the scene of carnage 
around them, “ but they’ll get us in the morning 
with their broadsides and we’ll have to clear out.” 

Carefully the crew of the privateer laid their 
dead and wounded in the captain’s gig and carried 
them ashore under the castle. There they found 
Mr. Dabney awaiting them, ready to convey the in- 
jured to a place of safety. 

Then the Yankees, at their captain’s order, 
collected their effects and brought them ashore 
also. 

“ One more whack at ’em, lads ! ” said Reid 

243 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


cheerily when everything had been saved that could 
be moved, and back the men went to their stations. 
At dawn the Carnation sailed close in and opened 
with her broadside, but her gunnery was so wretched 
that not a man on the privateer was hurt. On the 
other hand, the Carnation herself was driven off 
with badly cut rigging. But when she came down 
again with her guns double-shotted and the other 
ships in readiness to assist. Miles knew that nothing 
could be done further on the privateer. He was 
not surprised, therefore, to hear the order to aban- 
don ship. Captain Reid, with Miles’s aid, de- 
pressed the “ long Tom ” and fired it down the main 
hatch so that the British colors should never be 
hoisted over the deck that had been so gallantly de- 
fended. At the discharge of the gun, the men 
quietly dropped into the boats, as orderly as at a 
drill; Captain Reid followed, with the flag around 
his arm, and gave the word to make for the shore. 
Then, just as the privateersmen disembarked, they 
saw the crew of the Carnation boarding the sinking 
vessel. A minute later, red tongues of flame licked 
out of her ports and she burned till the waters 
closed over her decks. 

When Miles reached shore he took leave of Cap- 
tain Reid, for he knew that the Dabneys would be 
244 


DEFEAT WITH HONOR 


anxious indeed to know how he had fared during the 
terrible conflict of the night. 

“ Let me thank you, Mr. Gadsden, for your serv- 
ices — they were invaluable,” said Captain Reid in 
parting, just as the gray dawn showed over the house- 
tops. 

“ You are very kind, sir,” replied Miles, “ but I 
must thank you for allowing me a chance to take part 
in such a fight. Good-by, sir.” 

“ Good-by. I hope to see you later in the 
day.” 

Miles hastened through the city to the American 
Consulate. Needless to say, there had been no sleep 
there that night, and Miles’s arrival, safe and sound, 
brought unutterable relief to those who had become 
attached to him during the five weeks of his stay with 
them. 

After telling his story as briefly as he could, he 
fairly collapsed from exhaustion, and fell into a 
heavy sleep on the lounge where he sat. There he 
lay like a log till noon. On awaking, he was horri- 
fied to find his clothing stiff with blood. His shirt 
was slashed and torn almost in rags and his face and 
arms were black with powder. He was stiff and sore, 
and his head ached from the concussion of the guns 
as well as from the blows he had received; but he 
17 245 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


was anxious to be on hand in case there were fresh 
developments between British tars and Yankee pri- 
vateersmen. 

After a bath, a change of clothing, and a hasty 
meal. Miles hurried into the street. As Mr. Dab- 
ney had been out since early morning. Miles had to 
forage for news on his own hook. After a minute’s 
walking he began to hear shouting and the confused 
sound of a crowd of people in the direction of the 
cathedral. He quickened his pace to a run and soon 
came within sight of the square. 

The place was black with people, and belated 
ones like himself were running to join the throng. 
From the crowd rose a mixture of hoarse, hooting 
shouts, hisses, and occasional shrill cries in Portu- 
guese; and underlying all these sounds was the low, 
rhythmic throb of muffled drums. 

As Miles shouldered his way into the edge of the 
crowd some one said: “ Un Inglese.” At this an 
apoplectic-looking Englishman, standing in the front 
rank, evidently a traveler, turned and saw Miles. At 
once he reached back, shoving away his neighbors, 
and, catching him by the arm, helped him to the 
front. “ Evidently,” thought Miles, “ he takes me 
for a fellow-countryman.” The hat and suit Miles 
wore he had purchased from an English merchant in 
246 


DEFEAT WITH HONOR 


Fayal and were of a distinctively English style; so 
Miles decided to play out the part. 

As he came in view of the procession his new 
companion said mournfully: 

Look, me boy, that’s the result of last night’s 
affair with the Yankee pirates! ” 

Miles saw a long file of sailors and officers from 
the squadron winding through the square, and up 
into the outskirts of the town. To every six men 
was a crude coffin covered with black. It was tipped 
with a sword and cocked hat in the case of an offi- 
cer, and plain in the case of a seaman. The disturb- 
ance Miles had heard came from the jeers of the 
rougher element among the Yankee privateersmen 
who stood here and there in the crowd, taunting the 
Englishmen. The latter glowered in silence, saving 
up for the time when, having broken ranks, they 
could settle with their enemies wherever they found 
them. 

“How many did we lose?” asked Miles in an 
awe-struck tone which was genuine, for he could not 
help wondering how many of these silent forms he 
himself had been responsible for. Somehow the 
glory of warfare that had intoxicated him the night 
before faded in his mind at this somber spectacle. It 
seemed horrible to reflect that men of the same blood 
247 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


and language, with no personal grudge in the world, 
should have been flying at each other’s throats. Still, 
he knew that he had fought in self-defense, and, in- 
deed, that, from the American point of view, the 
whole war was a blow in national self-defense. 

He was roused from his reverie by the reply of 
the Englishman. 

“Lose? IVe been here an hour and still this 
dreadful procession goes on. I was talking with Mr. 
— what’s his name — our consul here, you know, and 
he said that he got it from the officers themselves that 
upward of 120 are dead and 130 wounded, among 
them Commodore Lloyd himself, with an ugly grape- 
shot wound in his leg. The consul said, too, that 
the Yankees lost only about a half dozen in all, but 
I can’t believe that.” 

He chattered on, eager to tell all he knew about 
the fight and commenting with great zeal on the 
fiendish, cutthroat character of the whole Yankee na- 
tion, while Miles half listened as he watched the mel- 
ancholy procession. 

“ I say ! ” The Englishman suddenly dropped 
to a confidential whisper behind his hand. “ Don’t 
breathe it, but the consul told me in confidence of a 
capital scheme to bag these cutthroats. You know 
we have a treaty with Portugal for the returning of 
248 


defeat with honor 


deserters. Well, there’s a nigger seaman got away 
from the Plantagenet, Lloyd will demand all these 
Yankees from the Portuguese governor — he’s a jelly- 
fish sort of chap — and examine ’em for deserters. 
Don’t you see? Disarm ’em, begad, and make ’em 
all prisoners I Pretty good, eh ? Capital, capital, I 
call it I” 

Miles was listening now with both ears. “ Well,” 
he replied, “ that’s topping, old chap, but I can’t 
stand this spectacle any longer; it’s too depressing.” 
And, bowing politely, he squirmed his way back 
through the crowd away from his garrulous acquaint- 
ance. 

As soon as he was clear he ran zigzag through 
side streets and alleys, taking a short cut to the quar- 
ter of the town where most of the Americans had 
found temporary quarters. He hoped to find Captain 
Reid, or at least one of his men to whom he could 
explain the situation and who could get word instant- 
ly to the captain. After a half-hour’s search he sud- 
denly came across Captain Reid and Mr. Dabney 
walking arm in arm. Miles was so much out of 
breath that he had some difficulty in getting out his 
story. 

“ I’m satisfied we’re to have trouble,” said Mr. 
Dabney when Miles finished, “ and that pretty soon.” 

249 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Aye, this is serious news,’’ said Reid thought- 
fully. “ Dabney, I’ll get my crew together to-night 
and march them out of the city under arms. We 
ought to find a place where we can make ourselves 
secure.” 

“ If you take the road that leads past the old 
castle down here,” said Mr. Dabney, “ you’ll come 
after a couple of miles upon an old stone convent — a 
regular fort in itself, which has been deserted for 
fifty years.” 

“ Fine — just the thing. Good-by, Dabney, for 
the present. Gadsden, come with me a moment; my 
quarters are within pistol shot and I have something 
for you.” 

There were two warrant officers and several sea- 
men on duty before Reid’s door, and these he instant- 
ly dispatched to pass the word to the members of the 
crew who were scattered through the town. After 
showing Miles into the little room he had secured as 
lodgings, Captain Reid took up a sword that lay on 
his bed. 

“Here, lad; this sword was picked up on the 
forecastle that you helped so well to defend. Some 
English officer dropped it when he went over back- 
wards, I reckon. You can see how the belt was cut 
through so that belt and scabbard fell beside the 
250 


DEFEAT WITH HONOR 


blade. You’ll want it as a keepsake, and it’s a beauty. 
Now, if you need to join us for any reason, you know 
where we’ll be; but I don’t think there’ll be any more 
fighting. Good-by — and a thousand thanks for 
bringing me the news. I must work now to get my 
boys together.” 

“ Thank you, sir, a thousand times I ” cried Miles 
as Captain Reid hurried away. 

He took the sword with its belt and scabbard, 
and strolled down to a stone bench on the quay where 
he could rest a moment and examine his weapon. It 
did not take more than a glance to show that it 
was no ordinary side arm. Its balance was perfect; 
the hilt was of gold and mother of pearl, and the 
pommel consisted of one huge amethyst. But this 
was merely a matter of ornament. As Miles drew 
out the slender blade, he stared with open-mouthed 
admiration and delight. It was not bright and glit- 
tering, like the ordinary sword, but of a dull blue 
color, full of countless wavy lines; and near the hilt 
were cut curious signs, suns and crescents, with an 
inscription in oriental characters. As he tried the 
temper, he found that he might bend the blade 
double and the point would leap back, true and 
straight. 

While he was gloating over these details of his 

251 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


treasure, he heard two or three times a curious, faint 
sound that seemed familiar. The last time it was 
loud enough for him to turn around with a start. 
It was that curious humming sound, the Aeolian 
harp — which Herk used to do to perfection. 


CHAPTER XIX 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 
T first Miles saw nothing but a couple of gar- 



1 - X rulous fishwives, and a gendarme leaning half 
asleep against the wall. But just as he was on the 
point of turning back again, something bobbed up in 
the window of a little ruined warehouse. Another 
second, and two staring eyeballs seemed to pop out 
of the darkness. 

“ Marse Miles ! ” came a voice in a hoarse whis- 
per. 

There was no doubt now about its being Herk; 
and Miles, wondering, followed a gesture from the 
negro and hurried into the little dark alley behind 
the warehouse, where they could meet unobserved. 
Miles whistled softly and Herk’s woolly head with 
its brass earrings bobbed out of another window 
like a jack-in-a-box, his teeth shining and the whites 
of his eyes rolling. 

“Bless Gawd, Marse Miles!” cried the black 


253 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


fellow, “ ’deed I’se glad to see yo’ ag’ini ” and he 
climbed down the wall of the warehouse on a piece 
of pipe like a huge ape. Miles saw that he was 
dressed in a British sailor’s uniform, which stretched 
tightly over his huge body, where it had not been 
split open. 

“ Come now and tell me all about it,” said Miles, 
leading the way to a spot behind a huge rusty an- 
chor in the ship chandler’s yard nearby. “ How 
did you get here of all places on earth? Tell me 
quick!” 

‘‘ Yassir, but kin yo’ git me a li’l snack o’ col’ 
vittles or sump’n ? Ah ain’t et sence yistiddy evenin’ 
nor yo’ po’ father neither.” 

“ Father! ” shouted Miles, jumping forward and 
seizing the shoulders of the negro, “ what do you 
mean? ” 

“ Don’ mek so much noise, Marse Miles ! ” ex- 
postulated Herk. “ Dey’ll ketch us hyar ef yo’ don’ 
watch out. Climb up in de house, Marse Miles, an’ 
yo’ kin see.” 

He crouched. Miles sprang on his shoulder as 
he used to when climbing the big cherry trees in the 
back garden at Annapolis. From Herk’s broad 
shoulders Miles got a good grip on the tile-pipe just 
above and, with a vigorous boost from below, went 

254 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


scrambling up to the little window. Another mo- 
ment and he had sprung through on to the floor of 
the old warehouse. 

“Miles, my boy, my boy! ’’called a familiar 
voice. “ I thought we’d find you 1 ” 

Miles stared blankly for an instant in the dark- 
ness of the little loft. Then he saw a beloved figure 
half lying on a pile of straw, one arm in a clumsy 
bandage and the other outstretched. 

“ Father — oh, daddy, you’re alive, you’re alive, 
you’re alive 1 ” and Miles was on his knees beside 
his father in a flash, his arms about the other’s neck. 
For a few minutes both asked questions at once, 
without even waiting for answers. Finally, Miles 
insisted on knowing about his father’s condition. 

“How are you hurt, father? Not much, I 
hope? ” 

“ A lead slug through my forearm, laddy, that’s 
all; but I lost so much blood from it that I’m not 
very lively.” 

“Thank God, it isn’t worse!” cried Miles; 
“ what I must do now is to get you something to eat. 
We’ll talk without end when I get back and I’ll get 
back in a jiffy. Help me down, Herk! ” 

After a quick glance from the window to see 
that no British sailor or city gendarme was in sight, 

255 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Miles slid down the pipe and made off with all speed 
to the market place. After buying a basket and fill- 
ing it with bread and fruit, he was back again under 
the little warehouse window in a surprisingly short 
time. Miles gave his whistle signal. Herk 
promptly slid down the pipe and followed Miles 
back again with the basket strapped to his back. 

“ Now, son,” said Mr. Gadsden, “ while I eat, 
tell me what has happened to you and what news 
there is from home. Lad, I haven’t had a word from 
any of you all since I sailed in the Eagle^ two years 
ago!” 

The color came back into Mr. Gadsden’s face as 
he ate, and Miles, as best he could, told his story 
from the day he sailed from Baltimore to the bloody 
battle of the night before. 

“ Herk’s told me a great deal,” laughed his 
father when Miles appeared surprised at finding what 
his father already knew. “ But I wanted to hear the 
tale from you. Well, well,” and he stroked his son’s 
head affectionately, “ I left you a stripling and I find 
you a man. You have a good record for those years, 
lad; I’m proud of you.” 

Miles’s cheeks burned at the compliment from the 
one source he valued most. “ I had hoped, though, 
that you might have heard news from mother and 
256 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


Debby. Poor women, they must have worried much 
over us.” 

“ But it’s your turn to tell me your story I ” cried 
Miles, eager to unravel the mystery of Carringford’s 
statement. 

“ Here you are then,” replied the elder Gadsden, 
settling himself more comfortably to ease his arm: 
“ On November i6, 1812, we overhauled a very rich 
prize, the Elizabeth^ of London, $50,000 in gold 
specie and a large quantity of woolen cloth. It was 
our first and only prize. The next day I sent her to 
Baltimore under a prize crew. Just as we parted 
a British corvette came in chase; I drew toward her 
to divert her from the Elizabeth and she followed 
me. A sudden shift of the wind put us to leeward, 
and, after a long chase, we were caught. I had to 
strike the flag after the first broadside, for she had 
us at her mercy. When the lieutenant came on board 
to take possession, who do you suppose it was? 
You’d hardly believe it, but, as I live, it was that 
bogus lord I kicked down our front steps! Wait! 
Then I learned for the first time what the puppy’s 
real name was. He was no other than your friend 
Carringford I ” 

“ Carringford 1 ” cried Miles, leaping to his feet 
with a gesture of rage. 


257 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Keep cool, laddy, we’re ahead of him now. But 
see what revenge he took. ‘ Well met, Mr. Gads- 
den,’ he said, bowing with an ugly sneer, ‘ the tables 
are turned now ! ’ 

“ ‘ The last time I had the pleasure of addressing 
you,’ I said, ‘ I did it with my boot, and I will gladly 
repeat the performance now.’ 

“ The sailors alongside him grinned, and he went 
into a white heat of rage. I thought he’d choke. 
Finally, he flung down into my cabin, ordering me 
to follow. There I handed him my letters of marque 
without a word. 

“ He looked at them, and then, after seeing that 
nobody was around, coolly walked to the after port 
and threw them overboard. 

“ ‘ Go back on deck! ’ he ordered. I went, and 
when he followed he called to his men : 

“ ‘ Seize this ruffian; he’s a pirate. There are no 
commissions in his cabin 1 ’ Then he drew back and 
slapped me across the mouth. I sprang at him, but 
was bowled over by the prize crew, tied up, bundled 
into a boat and taken to the corvette. 

“ That was the beginning of the trouble of which 
I hope this day is the end. Carringford wanted me 
hanged at the yardarm right away for piracy. But 
when I told my story the captain, rough character as 
258 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


he was, refused to pass sentence. He questioned me 
and cross-questioned me as well as all of my men, and 
was satisfied, I think, that Carringford was lying. 
But Carringford’s father was a rear admiral, and 
very influential in the admiralty. The captain took 
the course, finally, of simply putting off the case till 
we reached England. We went, as you did, from 
Plymouth to Dartmoor. After a year of misery 
there, I was called for to face trial on charge of piracy 
before a general court at Plymouth. The word came 
to me that I must expect hanging. Carringford had 
got his father interested in pushing the case, and a 
court was assembled which was practically ordered 
to find me guilty. I thought my time had come. I 
had not a witness to defend me. Carringford ap- 
peared against me and told his story with skill and 
plausibility. I, too, was allowed to tell mine, and the 
captain of marines, who was detailed to defend me, 
proved to be an able man. Apparently, Carring- 
ford’s notorious record was against him, and while 
the court would not vote for acquittal it ‘ suspended 
sentence,’ and held me only on a technicality for the 
jurisdiction of another court, in the meantime pro- 
posing to communicate with the authorities at Wash- 
ington. Meanwhile, I went from one prison ship or 
prison pen to another. Finally, my case was again 

259 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


called at Plymouth. While waiting on the docks 
under guard, a few of us prisoners, all French but me, 
were massed in with a gang of raw recruits, most of 
them victims of the press gang. From the conversa- 
tion I overheard among the marines on guard, I 
learned that an expedition was fitting out against one 
of the Southern ports in America. Suddenly, I saw 
a huge darky towering over the rest of the recruits. 
He was humming — you know how he does it! I 
rubbbed my eyes, but, sure enough, it was that black 
rascal Herk, big as life or bigger. An idea struck me. 

‘ Where are you fellows bound ? ’ I asked a blubber- 
ing country boy near me. 

“ ‘ All be goin’ to yonder frigut,’ he said, point- 
ing at the nearest of the ships in the squadron — the 
flagship Carnation — ‘ and I wish I wasn’t,’ he whim- 
pered. 

“ ‘ Change with me, I’ll take your place,’ I whis- 
pered, ‘ and when they find you instead of me, they’ll 
send you back home, while I’m doing your work on 
shipboard.’ 

“ He was a stupid clown, and I had to explain 
over and over again before he could understand what 
I proposed and be persuaded that he would not suf- 
fer. My idea was that by getting on the same ship 
with Herk we two could manage to escape as soon as 
260 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


we reached American waters, or sooner. Anyhow, it 
was better than hanging, and I hoped to hear from 
Herk news of home and you. 

“ Well, the exchange worked smoothly; when the 
sergeant of marines ordered ‘ Step lively there, crew 
of the Carnation^ I stepped lively along with the 
others of the pressed seamen, leaving my country 
friend standing with the French prisoners. I man- 
aged to work my way toward Herk, and when I 
made myself known to him he nearly spoiled every- 
thing.” 

“ ’Deed, I was so scared and flim-flabbergasted I 
jes’ let out a whoop I ” explained the negro who was 
sitting by, an interested listener. 

“ Quite right, you did,” laughed Mr. Gadsden, 
“ but nobody took the trouble to investigate the rea- 
son for Herk’s sudden burst of noise, and we were all 
bundled on board the Carnation, 

“ There for two weeks I have lived the life of a 
British tar under a ‘ smart ’ captain, and there have 
been many times that I wished I were back in Dart- 
moor. However, I was handy enough to escape flog- 
ging, which Herk, poor fellow, was not.” 

“ Lawdy, Marse Miles, dey done mos’ whip mah 
back off ! ” groaned the poor fellow, shaking with a 
sudden recollection of the cat o’ nine tails. 

261 


18 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Don’t interrupt! ” warned his master severely, 
“ the rest of the story is short. When we reached 
Fayal, Herk told me it was where you had been put 
off, so I arranged a plan by which Herk and I were 
to go ashore on liberty at Fayal, or swim ashore at 
night and desert to the hills behind the city. As it 
happened, when our squadron arrived, we found the 
General Armstrong here. I managed it so that 
Herk and I got into the same boat for the attack. 
I was compelled to join in that attack on my own 
countrymen, but I never dreamed my son was there 
firing upon me I Herk and I had a whispered con- 
versation of a minute before we left the Carnation; 
we were to fire one musket without ball, fall over- 
board as if hit by the privateer’s firing, and make for 
shore in the confusion. I was to give the signal and 
Herk was to fall in after me, both swimming under 
water as much as possible. As it turned out, I had 
the lead slug in my forearm just as I rose to jump 
over. I jumped with a real, ‘ sure ’nuff ’ groan. 
Herk followed. The crew of our barge was already 
decimated and in disorder; so, with Herk’s help, I 
managed to get ashore undiscovered, but faint with 
loss of blood. Herk found this hiding place for 
me before daybreak, and here we’ve been ever 
since. The doorway below is barricaded because 
262 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


in the street on this side Herk says he’s seen British 
soldiers.” 

“To think that the slug might have been fired by 
a musket from one of my own division I ” cried Miles, 
aghast at the thought that his own father had been 
among the men he had shot at. 

“ Oh, and there’s some more to my story,” added 
Mr. Gadsden; “ our friend Carringford is on one of 
the vessels here in Fayal right now unless he was 
killed in last night’s fighting. I saw him in the 
stern of the PJantagenet once when our squadron was 
on the point of leaving Plymouth. That’s an added 
possibility of danger if we should happen across him 
here in Fayal.” 

“ I’d like to happen across him, with a weapon 
in my fist! ” Miles said savagely. “ I have a big 
score to settle.” 

“ Marse Miles,” remarked Herk pathetically, 
“ ef you kin fin’ him, lick him a extry wallop for 
me. Frail him good.” 

“What did he do to you?” inquired Miles. 
“ O’Rourke told me you had kicked the swab in the 
stomach the time you fought that Knetsen fellow.” 

“ Yassir, I done let ’im have a li’l flip er de hoof, 
an’ I guess he thought it wuz a mule kickin’ down- 
hill. But he suttinly did git back at me.” 

263 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“Jimmy!” cried Miles, “I haven’t asked you 
yet how in thunder you ever got here, Herk 1 After 
seeing father, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find 
the old Annapolis statehouse round the corner. Spin 
your yarn now! ” 

“ Dey ain’t much, cep’n after you done git took 
ashore, Mistah Carrin’fo’d had me whipped on 
deck. He wuz awful mad at your gittin’ away, and 
’bout gittin’ hit wid mah hoof, Marse Miles, an’ 
every week he’d tell the cap’n sump’n ’bout me an’ 
git me licked ag’in before de ole sores wuz well. 
Lawsy mussy ! it wuz awful, Marse Miles ! When 
we gits to England dey sends all de prisoners off but 
me, ’cause Cap’n Lloyd of de Carnation he come 
’board our ship while we wuz standin’ roun’ waitin’ 
to be put ashore, an’ when he sees me he say, ‘ Come 
here, you dam big nigger,’ says he, * I wants you ! ’ 
He talks a minit wid de ossifer and den he holler, 
‘ Come along, you be my butler ’board my ship, an’ 
ef ye don’ do right I’ll cut yo’ gizzard out ! ’ I wuz 
awful glad to be on de same ship wid marster, but 
Cap’n Lloyd suttinly did make me sweat, an’ knocked 
me roun’ and flog me lak a New Orleans overseer. 
When we hit hyah, I say to yo’ pappy, ‘ Fo’ Gawd, 
marster, dis yer’s de place whar dey puts off Marse 
Miles! ’ an’ marster he say, ‘Then, Herk, we’ll get 
264 


SURPRISING ENCOUNTERS 


away right hyar ef we kin.’ So hyar we is, Hallelu- 
jah!” and Herk grinned with sheer joy from one 
earring to the other. 

“ Here we is,” repeated Miles, “ but we can’t 
stay here and the streets are full of British sailors 
hot for blood. They’ll be on the lookout for you, 
father, and Herk as deserters,” and the lad’s face 
fell at the dismal prospect. 

“ Here, Miles,” said Mr. Gadsden, “ if you can 
bring me a cloak such as these people wear to cover 
my arm, a wide hat to shield my face, and a pair of 
Mr. Dabney’s cast-off trousers to replace these sailor 
slops, I can walk to the consulate about sundown 
without raising suspicion. But you must give me a 
little map of the route. Poor Herk, though, has a 
bulk too big to find clothes for, and a complexion too 
pronounced to disguise. He’d better lie low in this 
loft awhile.” 

“ Marster, you all don’t ’low you’ll leave me 
hyar! ” cried Herk in dismay; “ de rats and ghost- 
es will git me sure ’nuff ! ” 

“ Rats and ghosts are better than Cap’n Lloyd,” 
reminded Mr. Gadsden, and Herk, who had seen a 
deserter hanged at the yardarm in Plymouth Har- 
bor, held his tongue. 

By the way. Miles,” added his father, “ when 
265 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Herk came up after you he put a sword and scab- 
bard in that corner — is it yours? 

Miles, who had completely forgotten his treas- 
ure, brought it to his father and told the story of 
how he came by it. 

“ Now,” he concluded, “ it’s nearly six o’clock 
and I must hurry to get your disguise and find some 
makeshift for Herk.” The next minute he was slid- 
ing down the pipe and then off to the consulate. 


CHAPTER XX 


MILES SETTLES A SCORE 

O N the way to the Dabneys, Miles noticed with 
anxiety the crowds of rough, drunken sailors 
that reeled through the streets. Here and there a 
vigorous battle of oaths, fists, and clubs showed that 
British tar and Yankee privateersman were settling 
their grudges. Miles was protected, however, by his 
English civilian costume, and was careful to go 
through byways and quiet lanes to avoid any chance 
of collision. At the consulate he found Mr. Dab- 
ney out again, but Mrs. Dabney dug out of the gar- 
ret the cloak, hat, and trousers for Miles’s father 
and added a small flask of cordial. Equipped with 
these Miles threaded his way back again to the old 
warehouse. 

It was an hour after sundown and the moon was 
just rising when, with Miles’s and Herk’s assistance, 
Mr. Gadsden reached the cobblestones below the 
little window. Miles watched him go with much mis- 
267 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


giving, for with the approach of night the uproar 
of the drunken sailors was increasing. Long before 
this the quiet tradesfolk had shut up their shops in 
alarm and hidden behind closed doors, while the gen- 
darmes had also disappeared. Mr. Gadsden, how- 
ever, insisted on going alone, leaving Miles to stay 
with Herk, who would have been utterly helpless by 
himself. 

There in the darkness of the little loft Miles and 
Herk sat conversing in low tones. They had supped 
on the remains of the lunch Miles had brought, but 
the remains were too small to do more than put a 
stropping finish to the edge of their appetites. Huge 
rats were scurrying about them, and Herk began to 
hear “ ghostes.” 

“ Don’t you hear sump’n creepy, Marse Miles? ” 
he asked anxiously. 

“ Shut up ! ” Miles snapped impatiently, for he 
was worn with the nervous strain of the day’s ex- 
citement. Moreover, he was anxious to the point of 
desperation lest his father should fall afoul of one 
of the bands of English sailors that were carousing 
through the streets. 

Herk promptly held his tongue — he would gladly 
have cut it out if the master had ordered it — but 
Miles, though he could not see his companion in the 
268 


MILES SETTLES A SCORE 


darkness, knew that the poor fellow was hurt at his 
young master’s unusual sharpness. “ All the same,” 
he reflected, “ if it weren’t for Herk I would be by 
my father’s side now.” 

“ Think about your master and his danger in- 
stead of your fool ghosts,” continued Miles, trust- 
ing to justify his temper. 

Yassir,” replied the darky humbly, and for a 
long time neither spoke. Miles sat with his head at 
the little window listening to the uproar. 

The ships struck two bells. “ Nine o’clock,” 
whispered Miles to himself, and just then a bugle on 
each vessel sounded the recall. That was welcome 
music to Miles, for he knew that the sailors must 
at once get back to the boats. Now, over the din 
of the voices, drunken songs and laughter, could be 
heard the sharp commands of the officers driving their 
unwilling crews to the boats. 

But though this continued for an exasperatingly 
long while, slowly the noise died away. By ten 
o’clock the little town seemed to have regained its 
normal condition. At length Miles rose, saying: 
“ Come on, Herk, we’ll risk it now. I can’t stay 
here in this rat hole another minute. Where’s my 
sword? ” 

Herk groped and found the sword, then the two 
269 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


slipped down to the ground ready to make the dash 
for the consulate. 

“ Marse Miles, I reckon Fd better git sump’n to 
wallop with ef we git in trouble.” 

“ What can you get? ” 

“ Hyah’s a ole piece o’ busted crowbar I done 
foun’ an’ hid in de corner, Marse Miles.” 

“ Good, tote it along. Now, remember, keep 
perfectly quiet. We’ve got to get to the Dabneys 
without anybody seeing us or hearing us.” 

Miles then struck off in the direction of the con- 
sulate, but time and again he had to snatch at Herk 
and get him around a corner to avoid a knot of sail- 
ors who were being rounded up by midshipmen and 
lieutenants. Miles risked discovery once or twice by 
going near enough to see if any of these officers re- 
sembled Carringford, but there was no sign of him. 
On the two went, threading the dark streets. Scarcely 
half a mile now lay ahead. 

“ This is great luck,” whispered Miles over his 
shoulder, “ we are almost out of the woods now.” 

“Yassir, ’deed I hope we is,” answered the 
darky aloud, forgetful of his orders. 

“Halt, there! — Stand by, men!” 

Before Miles and Herk knew what had hap- 
pened, a British lieutenant stepped out of the dark- 
270 


MILES SETTLES A SCORE 


ness into the ring of light cast by the lantern at the 
corner. Four seamen came up behind him. Herk 
started to gasp, ‘‘ Fore Gawd, Marse Miles ” — 
when the officer, after a second’s peering under his 
hat brim, exclaimed in a harsh voice that Miles re- 
membered. 

“ Ha ! Egad — two birds with one stone I Here’s 
the nigger we’re looking for and the puppy there is 
an escaped prisoner. — Well met, Mr. Gadsden! ” 

He dropped his hat in mock courtesy, and Miles 
saw the features of Carringford. 

As the situation flashed on Miles, he saw its ap- 
parent hopelessness; but he could remember after- 
wards no feeling but overpowering anger and hate 
at the sight of the villain. Miles’s mind could only 
entertain one thought: “This is the man who at- 
tempted to bring my father to the gallows.” 

“ You dirty hound! ” cried Miles, choking with 
rage at Carringford’s epithet; “I’d like to settle 
with you, man to man ! ” 

“Settle with me?” snarled the other, “you’ll 
settle with me this bloody minute, you brat of a 
pirate! Arrest that nigger!” he cried to his sea- 
men. 

Miles ripped the scabbard off his sword, and 
had his blade ready in a twinkling to parry the 
271 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


cowardly thrust that Carringford, supposing him 
unarmed, made for his breast. 

This sudden turn clearly surprised Carringford, 
but did not disturb him. A sudden medley of blows 
and shouts told Miles that Herk was giving a good 
account of himself against his four assailants, who, 
though superior in numbers, were much the worse 
for liquor. The negro had cunningly run up a side 
street about fifty yards, to draw off the seamen from 
attacking Miles, and then had turned on his pur- 
suers. 

“ Ha, you bilgy swab,” sneered Carringford 
after the first parry. ‘‘ So you had your little tin 
sword by you! Never mind, my boy, say your 
prayers; you’ll be dead in about two minutes. Ah, 
there I touched you, just for fun that time, you know! 
Wait till you feel cold steel in your ribs! ” 

Miles was so filled with hate for this man who 
had plotted the hanging of his father and had been 
the cause of so much suffering on the part of Herk, 
that he fought rather recklessly at first, underesti- 
mating the skill of his antagonist. Suddenly he felt 
the sharp prick of his enemy’s sword in his left 
shoulder. Carringford’s taunts were evidently de- 
signed to work Miles into a blind fury that would 
leave a wide opening for the final lunge. 

272 


MILES SETTLES A SCORE 


The realization of this and the prick of his 
enemy’s steel, however, brought Miles to the neces- 
sity of playing his point coolly. Here was no cut 
and thrust melee behind bulwarks and hammock 
nettings, such as he had mixed in only the night be- 
fore, but a set-to on even terms with a skilled 
swordsman who was determined to kill. 

Miles now settled down to cool, careful sword- 
play, such as Lusson had taught him. Carringford, 
too, stopped his sneering talk when he discovered 
that Miles was not so easy to settle out of hand. 
The Englishman’s blade was longer and heavier 
than Miles’s, in that respect putting the latter at a 
decided disadvantage. On the other hand. Miles 
had managed to back around at the first onslaught 
so that the light from the street lantern shone in his 
enemy’s eyes, a position from which Carringford 
failed to dislodge him. 

Herk’s rough-and-tumble fight sounded fainter 
and fainter as the knot of men went scuffling round 
the corner and up the street, leaving the two swords- 
men alone. For several minutes they ground 
sparkling blades in simple lunge, parry and riposte, 
in quick succession; Miles, playing on the defensive 
to hold his position, and Carringford, angry at his 
inability to reach him, thrusting viciously. While 
273 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the Englishman evidently depended on his longer 
weapon to overreach Miles’s guard, Miles was 
keenly watching his enemy’s tactics for an opening. 

Then Carringford tried to get at his opponent by 
disarming him, as Lusson had done in the first day’s 
fencing on the Comet, but Miles was not to be 
caught. Failing at this, the Englishman tried to 
get around Miles’s guard by beating it aside and 
lunging with lightning speed. The sparks flew as 
Miles parried, but Carringford, losing his balance 
on a rough stone in the pavement, fell sprawling, 
his sword clattering out of his hand. As he fell, 
the point of Miles’s weapon slashed up in the parry 
and tore an ugly gash in Carringford’s cheek. Miles 
lowered his point and drew a deep breath. 

‘‘Get up, you beast!” said he. “I’ve marked 
you, but I’m not done with you.” 

Carringford, who had turned white on falling, 
expecting Miles to run him through, scrambled to 
his feet, livid with shame at his humiliation. After 
crossing blades again. Miles, noticing with satisfac- 
tion that his adversary showed signs of tiring, 
attacked aggressively. He himself, however, was 
feeling none too fresh, for he had not recovered 
from the exhaustion of the night before and had 
had little to eat for many hours. Carringford now 
274 


MILES SETTLES A SCORE 


began parrying rather widely, and yet managed to 
protect himself when Miles thrust. A cold sweat 
began to break out on the Englishman’s face, as he 
evidently realized that he was getting weaker every 
minute. On the other hand. Miles, much as he 
hated his opponent, suddenly felt sick at the idea of 
killing, and played his thrust and lunge only to dis- 
able him, aiming at the shoulders, arms, and thighs, 
and handicapping himself by this very mercifulness. 

“ If I can just cripple him so that he can never 
draw sword again, that will be a far better punish- 
ment than to kill him,” reflected Miles; “I could 
never sleep with even that man’s life on my hands.” 

Then he remembered Lusson’s pointing out to 
him a spot beneath the deltoid muscle of the 
shoulder, that, if hit fairly with the blade, would 
cut the tendon so that, no matter how much was done 
afterwards, the arm would never be worth much. 
Accordingly, he made up his mind to play for that 
spot. Carringford was fencing wildly now, but 
Miles feared that it might be the man’s trick to get 
him off guard. As he continued to fence carefully, 
a trick that Lusson had taught him came to his mind. 
Almost inperceptibly he crouched lower and lower. 
Suddenly, he dropped, and his left hand touched the 
ground for the fraction of a second, and at the same 
275 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


instant he sprang up under Carringford’s guard and 
thrust for the shoulder. He could not have hit his 
spot more exactly. 

The Englishman dropped, groaning and cursing. 
“I hope you’ve had enough!” said Miles, wip- 
ing his blade and shoving it back into the scabbard, 
“ I present you with your life, which is more than 
you deserve. But you’ll never draw a blade again, 
and you’ll carry my mark on your face till you die. 
I wish you a long and painful convalescence 1 ” 

During the duel, some of the citizens had been 
interested watchers from dark windows overhead. 
As they saw the fight over and the Englishman ly- 
ing helpless, they raised a hue and cry, calling for 
lanterns and whistling for the gendarmes. Miles, 
not stopping to discuss matters with them, hurried 
up the street, calling for Herk. 

“ Hyah — Marse Miles! ” came the labored an- 
swer from an alley nearby. There he found Herk 
with three seamen lying before him, swinging blindly 
at a fourth who had pressed him into a corner and 
was jabbing viciously with his cutlass. A cut on the 
forehead was bleeding so profusely as almost to 
blind the negro, and he was badly slashed on the 
arms and legs. 

“ Run, or you’re a dead man ! ” cried Miles, 
276 



** He sprang up under Carringford’s guard and thrust for the 

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MILES SETTLES A SCORE 


rushing on the sailor, his sword whirling in circles 
over his head. The Englishman dropped his cut- 
lass and bolted before this reenforcement, but did 
not get away without a cut across the seat of his 
trousers “ to spur him to his best effort,” as Miles 
told him. 

On examination. Miles found that Herk’s worst 
wound was the cut on the forehead, and this he bound 
up at once with his neckcloth. 

“ Come now, Herk, we’ll have to be moving. 
They’re making a lot of noise where I left Carring- 
ford and they’ll make more when they see what 
you’ve left behind.” 

“ Marse Miles, I knowed yo’ could nail dat po’ 
white trash,” said Herk, as he picked up the dis- 
carded cutlass, “ so I move mah rumpus roun’ de 
co’ner, fo’ fear one o’ dem sailors mought take a lick 
at you.” 

“ I knew it, you bully old tobacco brunette,” 
laughed Miles affectionately. “ Next time I get 
snappy at you — just say ‘ Rumpus ’ or ‘ Carring- 
ford.’ ” And Herk chuckled delightedly. 

“ Here you go I ” said Miles suddenly, and, pull- 
ing Herk’s sleeve, he turned sharp around a corner 
and ran up the steps of the consulate. 


19 


CHAPTER XXI 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 

A S the door opened, the first face Miles saw was 
that of his father. 

“ Safe and sound, all hands ! ” cried Mr. Gads- 
den delightedly. “ IVe been here an hour.” 

“ You managed well, father,” laughed Miles, 
“ I struck a snag coming up.” 

“ I found my way by following the cathedral 
tower and hugging the dark side of the street,” said 
the elder Gadsden, “but what’s — look at Herk!” 

By this time Herk had appeared under the light 
of the hall chandelier, and his wounds showed up to 
their full advantage. 

“ I ain’t mo’n just tickled a bit, marster,” 
grinned the darky, “but I’s pow’ful hongryl ” 

“ He’d say that if his head were on the block,” 
laughed Miles. 

“Come, come. Miles, tell us the story!” cried 
Charles Dabney. “ I’ll bet there was a fight! ” 

278 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


Mrs. Dabney, however, insisted on first attend- 
ing to Herk’s cuts, as she had already done to the 
wounded arm of Mr. Gadsden. Then, between 
mouthfuls of cold supper” Miles told of his duel with 
Carringford. 

“Gee, I wish Ld seen it I cried Charles, “but 
why didn’t you kill him — he deserved it? ” 

“ You did right. Miles,” said his father gravely, 
“ no one wants to bear a man’s life blood on his 
hands. In battle where one has to kill or be killed, 
it’s different, but when you have an opponent at 
your mercy, it is too much like murder. Carringford 
Is punished heavily as It Is.” 

“ Aye, you’re right, Gadsden,” assented Mr. 
Dabney. “ Charley here Is a young fire eater when 
he talks, but he really wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now, 
while I don’t want to break up this happy gathering, 
I must tell you that this fight to-night means serious 
trouble. Already to-day I have thwarted Commodore 
Lloyd so much In his efforts to get at Reid and his 
men that there’s no telling where he’d stop. He’s 
Insane with rage now, and he’s been so successful In 
bullying the cowardly governor here, that after Car- 
ringford turns up, he’s not likely to respect the con- 
sulate at all — If he suspected you and Hcrk of hid- 
ing here — to say nothing of your father.” 

279 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“What, then, do you suggest?” asked Mr. 
Gadsden. 

“ Well, I think the best course is to take a pair 
of blankets and a basket of provisions and spend the 
next two or three days hiding in the hills. If you 
can, of course, you’d better join Reid and his crew 
where you’d be sure of the protection of numbers, 
anyway. It’s nearly midnight now, and there’s no 
time to waste.” 

Accordingly, an outfit consisting of tinder and 
flint, a basket of such provisions as could be found, 
blankets, a coffeepot and skillet, were hurriedly got- 
ten together. In half an hour the three fugitives 
were stealing out of the back entrance of the con- 
sulate and silently making their way to the outskirts 
of the city. 

At first, acting on the suggestion of Mr. Dabney, 
they tried to plan a route that would reach Captain 
Reid and his men in the old stone convent; but that 
meant a long, roundabout tramp of several miles in 
order to avoid passing through the city. Neither 
Mr. Gadsden nor Herk was in condition for this 
long journey. For the negro, especially, the saber 
cuts on his thighs made walking very painful. So, 
finally, after a mile and a half of uphill climbing. 
Miles said: 


280 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


“ Father, what’s the use of plodding along far- 
ther? There’s a little cabin in the corner of that 
vineyard where we might just as well stop and take 
care of ourselves.” 

“ Let’s try it for a while, anyway,” assented Mr. 
Gadsden; “ what do you say, Hercules? ” 

“ Yassir, I feel lak I kin lay down on a pile ob 
bricks and sleep till Christmas I ” 

The cabin Miles had noticed was a little stone 
hut used as a shelter by the grape gatherers in time 
of storm and to spend the night in when the work 
of picking was at its height. As he knew that the 
harvest had been gathered a week before, he decided 
that there was little chance of the shelter’s being oc- 
cupied. Shortly after they entered the hut and in- 
spected the bare interior, all three stretched them- 
selves out on the dirt floor and were sound asleep in 
an instant. 

When Miles woke up, the cathedral bell was 
striking two. He rolled out, stiff and sore, and 
yawning, opened his eyes on Herk moving noise- 
lessly about. He was placing some cold meat and 
bread on the top of a box and looked around as 
Miles got up. Mr. Gadsden lay still asleep. 

** I’vse pow’ful glad you done woke up,” whis- 
pered Herk; ‘‘ I feel lak ” 

281 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“Hungry again, I suppose?” laughed Miles. 
“ Well, so am I, and there’s father stirring.” 

“ I takes notice dat you is eatin’ wid a cornin’ 
appetite, Marse Miles,” Herk retorted petulantly. 
Miles laughed, for he knew what the darky feared. 
Mrs. Dabney had provided all that could be found 
in her larder, but when Herk finished with what 
Miles and his father left, there was barely enough 
to feed a sparrow. 

“ Jiminy, you didn’t leave much ! ” cried Miles, 
anxiously eying the crumbs. “ We are likely to 
have famine in the camp. There’s no telling how 
long we’ve got to hide here and all our grub’s 
gone I ” 

Their being in the vineyard had one advantage, 
for there were many odds and ends of bunches of 
grapes left hanging which were fully ripe and de- 
licious. But there were so many people in neigh- 
boring vineyards that Miles did not dare go out of 
the hut till after the workmen had returned to the 
city. For the same reason he did not dare light a 
fire during the day lest the smoke lead to an investi- 
gation. By the time darkness came the three refu- 
gees were badly in need of water, though they felt 
that they could do without food for some hours yet. 
Leaving the hut. Miles and Herk explored till they 
282 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


found a stream tumbling down the hillside and 
there they quenched the thirst that had been saved up 
for so many hours and brought back the coffeepot 
full for Mr. Gadsden and for future needs. After 
securing their supper from the vines, they again re- 
tired to the hut. 

The next morning Miles awoke early and looked 
out eagerly to see if the British squadron had 
sailed. To his disappointment, he saw that the 
ships were still at their anchorage and had been 
joined during the night by two more sloops of 
war. Mr. Gadsden slept nearly all day and all 
night, and the following morning, when Miles was 
making a fresh bandage for his arm, he said : 
‘‘ Father, don’t you want to get up and move around 
a bit?” 

“ Lad,” he answered, “ Fve lived on my nerve 
for two years, and all I want now is to lie still and 
rest.” 

Miles and Herk, too, soon acquired the habit — 
for there was absolutely nothing else to do with the 
heavy hours, but either Miles or Herk stood watch 
during the hours of daylight for fear of discovery. 
One heavy day after another dragged by and still 
the British squadron remained at anchor. The two 
sloops had gone — apparently back to England — but 
283 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the hateful forms of the Rota, the Carnation and the 
Plantagenet still swung to their cables. 

By the end of the week, Mr. Gadsden took suffi- 
cient interest in life to sit up and talk with Miles of 
the thousand different things they had at heart, of 
their loved ones in Annapolis, especially, and of their 
country at war against the oppressor. 

“ It seems hard, father, that you and I, who tried 
so hard to strike a blow against the enemy, should 
have spent so much of our time in captivity, while 
others have gained glory all through the war. 
Wouldn’t it be fine to be a member of the wardroom 
of the Constitution? Or even a fore-topman — think 
of her victories ! ” 

“ Never mind, we know we’ve tried our best, 
and that’s all anyone can do. Besides, there has 
been no more gallant battle in this war than the 
fight off Pernambuco that you described to me, or 
that other right here in Fayal harbor. Be glad you 
had a share in those glorious fights, my boy. The 
Constitution has always outmatched her adversaries 
in guns and men. Those two fights were against 
tremendous odds. The honors are yours. Miles!” 

“I wish I could believe it!” laughed Miles. 
“ Everybody sneers at a privateer’s chance of glory 
— I did myself, once.” 


284 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


“ Don’t worry about what other people are going 
to think. Remember, Nelson said England expected 
every man to do his duty, not to get his name in the 
papers — but what’s that?” pointing to the ships 
in the harbor. 

The blue Peter — the signal for general recall — 
fluttered to the fore peak of the Carnation, accom- 
panied by the puff of white smoke from her quarter 
and a muffled boom that echoed around the hills. 

“ They’re going, father ! ” cried Miles — at 
last!” 

** I do believe you’re right,” replied the other, 
and without another word they stared at the pro- 
cession of boats, the swinging of yards, the dropping 
of sail, till finally the muddy anchors came dripping 
to their catheads, and all three vessels passed one 
after another out into the open Atlantic. 

“Wake up, Herk!” cried Miles delightedly, 
to the snoring darky, “ we’re done with grape juice 
for one long while I ” 

On seeing the ships round the harbor mouth and 
put to sea. Miles had announced that he was anxious 
to “ hit the trail ” for the Dabneys once more, but 
Mr. Gadsden advised waiting till sundown before 
going back where they would be readily recognized. 
There was only an hour to wait, however, long as it 
285 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


seemed, and then the three regained the highway and 
turned their faces toward the city. Going down the 
hill was far pleasanter than climbing, but after eight 
days of watery diet on grapes, and no exercise, the 
mile and a half between the cabin and the city along a 
dusty road was a tedious journey. 

“ ’Deed, I suttinly was glad to see the las’ of dat 
Plantagemet! ” exclaimed Herk, heaving a gusty 
sigh of relief. 

“ Well, we’d better be careful yet,” said Miles, 
dodging behind a hedge at the rumble of an approach- 
ing wagon. “ Though,” he added under his breath, 
“ I declare I’d rather go to jail than eat another 
grape.” 

A half hour’s walking brought them safely to the 
consulate, where Miles and his father were wel- 
comed with open arms and Herk was installed in 
the kitchen. 

“ We were certainly worried about you,” said 
Mrs. Dabney after Miles had finished what he mod- 
estly termed a “ square meal.” “ We had no idea 
of your whereabouts after Captain Reid told us that 
he hadn’t seen you.” 

‘‘Where is Captain Reid?” asked Miles. 

“ Gone two days ago, with his men, in a Portu- 
guese brig, safe and sound,” said Charles Dabney. 

286 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


“ And left father and me behind! ” cried Miles 
in dismay. 

“ Well, from the talk I heard the morning after 
your fracas with Carringford, it looked as if you 
would be left behind in jail if they ever caught you. 
The governor promised Captain Lloyd to get you and 
Herk if it took every man on the island to do it! 
But I happen to know that he didn’t exert himself 
much. The delay in sailing was due, I believe, to 
Lloyd’s hope of getting Herk hanged at the yard- 
arm as much as to getting the wounded back to Eng- 
land. But you are safe now.” 

“ What about the search — did they force your 
doors here?” inquired Mr. Gadsden. 

“ Indeed they did ! ” cried Mr. Dabney, redden- 
ing with anger at the recollection. “ Lloyd sent a 
ruffianly lot of blue jackets to surround our house; 
but, fortunately, a very gentlemanly officer conducted 
the search with as little offense as possible. It was 
lucky you three had gone ! ” 

“Did they know of father’s escape?” inquired 
Miles. 

“ No; apparently they thought he had been killed, 
because there were a number of bodies never recov- 
ered. But they were hot on the trail of you and Herk. 
You see, Carringford’s father may be able to do much 
287 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


to promote or disgrace Lloyd, and Carringford’s hu- 
miliation has been the gossip of the town and the fleet 
ever since it happened.” 

They talked on until late into the night, planning 
as to how the three fugitives could get passage to 
the United States. The chance of an American ves- 
sel’s putting into Fayal was too doubtful to depend 
on, and it was finally decided that Mr. Gadsden, with 
Mr. Dabney as interpreter, should interview various 
shipping houses on the water front and try to get 
passage to some friendly territory. 

Fortunately, Miles had still in his body belt some 
of the mate’s wages he had earned on the Dutch brig. 
On the basis of this, he and his father rented a room 
in the neighborhood of the consulate, where they 
waited to get passage, and Herk worked out his board 
in the Dabney kitchen. Day after day father and 
son traveled from one shipping agency to another, 
or talked with ship’s masters on the water front, and 
all for nothing. Finally, one captain agreed to give 
passage to the three to Vera Cruz, Mexico, where 
his ship was bound, on condition that Mr. Gadsden 
and Miles pay two hundred pesos and Herk work his 
passage. 

Miles was low in funds and unable to pay the ex- 
orbitant price without borrowing half of it from Mr. 

288 


HIDING IN THE HILLS 


Dabney. This he did not wish to do, because he was 
already under great obligations to him, and he knew 
that Mr. Dabney could not spare such a sum. 

He was still puzzling his brains for a solution of 
his difficulty when Mr. Dabney hurried into the house 
one evening and shouted: 

“ Miles, good news ! ” 

“ What is it?” 

“ There’s a beautiful Baltimore privateer just in 
port. I met her captain not five minutes ago and 
told him about you. He says pack your duds, bring 
your nigger, and be ready at the landing in an hour. 
He’ll have quarters ready for your father after 
dinner.” 

“Hooray!” shouted Miles. Then noticing a 
twinkle in Mr. Dabney’s eye, he asked with wide- 
opened eagerness : “ Is it — can it be the Comet? ” 
“ No, it’s the Chasseur^ called the Pride of Bal- 
timore,” replied the other with a laugh. “ Isn’t that 
good enough, or must I find you the Comet? ” 

“ Good enough 1 I’d welcome a greasy whaler 
pointed for God’s own country 1 ” cried Mr. Gadsden. 
“ You’ve brought us luck indeed! ” 

Miles flew about getting ready to go. He tried 
to express his gratitude to the Dabneys, but they re- 
fused to admit any obligation on his part toward 
289 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


them, for they had become very fond of him. Miles 
was down at the pier a full half hour before the ap- 
pointed time and paced up and down, unable to take 
his eyes off the handsome lines of the Yankee clipper. 
At last the captain’s gig came away and was soon 
alongside the pier. Miles and Herk jumped in, the 
coxswain ordered “ give away,” and they were off, 
with the Dabneys waving farewells from the shore. 


CHAPTER XXII 


FAMILIAR FACES 

I N a few moments the boat was alongside the 
privateer. Miles stepped briskly up the gang- 
way, but Herk, even though a step behind, got his 
head on a level with the deck first. 

“O bless Gawd! Marse Miles, dar’s de ole 
cap n I 

“Captain who?” Miles asked excitedly, but in 
another . instant he was facing Captain Thomas 
Boyle, and behind him saw the delighted faces of 
Lusson and old Bill Todd. The surprise took his 
breath away, but before he could find words, Boyle 
had him by the hand, his face beaming; and Lusson 
and Gilmor were by his side, all laughing and talk- 
ing together. 

“Well met! Well met! ” Boyle managed to 
make himself heard. “ Away, you blatherskites, 
devil a word can I get in edgewise! Gadsden, I 
order you down to the captain’s cabin to tell me all 
291 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


about yourself. And I want to know what you did 
with that prize you promised to deliver in Balti- 
more I ” 

There was a great laugh at this sally, in which 
Miles joined heartily. Lusson and Gilmor insisted 
that they be allowed to “ hear Miles draw the long 
bow,*’ and followed to the cabin ladder. As Miles 
looked over his shoulder for Herk, he saw him clasp 
hands with Peggy and execute a wild dance of exul- 
tation. Every now and then he whirled the little 
Irishman so fast that his wooden leg beat a regular 
tattoo on the deck, while the seamen shouted with 
laughter. Suddenly remembering Todd, Miles 
broke away from Boyle a moment to have a word 
with his old friend. “Wait for me, Todd, till I 
finish my report to the skipper, and I’ll come back 
and tell you the story of my troubles,” he said as he 
hurried away again. 

Established finally in the captain’s cabin. Miles 
told the story of his adventures and mishaps. When 
he had finished, Boyle dismissed Miles and the 
younger men to the wardroom, where Miles learned 
the story of his friends’ adventures since the Lap- 
wing parted company with the Comet fully eighteen 
months before. From them Miles learned that Boyle 
had drawn ahead to pick up another prize, and before 
292 


FAMILIAR FACES 


he could get back to sight the Lapwing the storm 
had come upon him. For three days the Comet had 
sailed without sighting one of her prizes, but gradu- 
ally fell in with them as she neared the capes. All 
of them were the worse for the storm, but none of 
them foundered. Miles’s fate could only be guessed, 
though the belief was that the Lapwing had gone 
down in the gale. 

‘‘What did Captain Boyle report about me?” 
inquired Miles at this point of the story, fear- 
ing that the news of shipwreck had reached his 
mother. 

“ Well,” responded Gilmor, “ he got me to help 
him cook up a letter to your mother saying, among 
other things, that you had got separated from the 
convoy by bad weather, and might be expected within 
the capes at any time, providing the blockading fleet 
didn’t catch you. Thinking you might be a goner, 
the old man threw in a lot of complimentary lies 
about you, which I’m sure he’d never repeat,” 
laughed Gilmor. “ But he was sure-’nough wor- 
ried about you — as we all were. By Gad, I’m glad 
to see you again I ” and he slapped Miles on the 
back so enthusiastically that he nearly knocked him 
off his seat. 

“ Pipe down there, Geelmorl ” objected Lusson. 

293 


20 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Diahle! you’ll nevaire grow to be more zan a 
boy. Tell Gadsden what we did in ze Breetish 
Channel.” 

“ O, Miles, you missed a good time with us 1 ” 
cried Gilmor. “ You see, after we got to Baltimore, 
Boyle got command of this Chasseur, the finest 
equipped and the fastest privateer that ever sailed. 
Boyle reshipped us all, got a few new hands, and 
off we went in a week. He put the new men in the 
boat he sent you, by the way, so you wouldn’t find 
out who we were till you came aboard. Well, sir, 
since we struck British waters there’s been scarcely 
a day when we haven’t taken a ship, some days four 
or five. Then Boyle, for the fun of it, issued a 
proclamation putting all the coasts of Great Britain 
under blockade — the mistress of the seas! What 
do you think of that? The joke of it was, that 
everybody knew our masts and spars by sight, but 
although the frigates and sloops went after us hot- 
foot, they never could get within long gun range. 
It was rare sport I ” 

“But where’s old pepper-box Bradford?” 
queried Miles. “ Not lost the number of his mess, I 
hope? ” 

“No; he went sick about a month ago, and 
couldn’t seem to get better aboard ship, so we put 
294 


FAMILIAR FACES 


him ashore at Brest. Had a time running the block- 
ade there, too.” 

“ Who takes his place? ” 

‘‘Moi, at your sairveece,” responded Lusson 
with a wave of his big hand. 

“Then you’re second officer, I suppose?” look- 
ing toward Gilmor. 

“ Right, I am,” responded Gilmor with a grin, 
“ and one. Miles Gadsden, is third.” 

“What, really?” 

“ Surely, the captain told me as soon as he heard 
about you from Mr. Dabney.” 

This pleased Miles beyond words, but he tried 
not to make his pleasure too evident, for Lusson and 
Gilmor were both watching him with twinkling eyes. 

“ Now, tell us about that Armstrong fight,” or- 
dered Gilmor; “don’t leave out a rope yarn or a 
cartridge ! ” 

So Miles told the story — followed it by the dis- 
covery of his father and Herk, and then the duel 
with Carringford. This last interested Lusson 
hugely, and he went over Miles’s tactics carefully, 
commenting and criticising severely, though really 
proud as a fond mother over a successful son. 

“ But I haven’t had a word yet with the boat- 
swain I ” exclaimed Miles, interrupting a list of 
295 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


fancy tricks and sword play that Lusson was prom- 
ising to teach him, and ran up the ladder. 

“ Bos’n Bill Todd!” 

“ Aye, aye, leftenant,” replied Todd, shifting 
his quid, and saluting with a twinkle in his eye. He 
had been waiting for Miles to come on deck. 

Miles grabbed the tarry fist, with a “ Jiminy, Pm 
mighty glad to see you again 1 ” 

“ Now, sir. I’m off watch. If ye don’t mind. 
I’d like yet to spin a yarn ’bout what you and Hercum- 
lees have been an’ done sence ye was cap’n of the 
Lapwing.** 

Again Miles told his story. To Todd the most 
interesting part was the handling of the Lapwing in 
the storm, especially the construction of the sea an- 
chor. As he expressed it, “ a swab as can’t make 
two half hitches can swing a cutlass to save his own 
gizzard, but it’s another thing to be a seaman.” 

When pressed to tell about himself, the only 
thing he could “ recollect as important ’nuff to tell ” 
was the fact that he now used Virginia Twist instead 
of Maryland Niggerhead, and was able “ to spit a 
heap freer tharby.” 

“ Now, there’s one thing I’ve got to have right 
now, Todd,” said Miles. “ I want to know the story 
of that ear.” 


296 


FAMILIAR FACES 


“ Will ye batten down your hatches over it an’ 
keep it dark as Egypt for evermore?” asked the 
boatswain, his eyes a-twinkle. 

“ Aye, aye, mum’s the word,” replied Miles, eager 
for the story of battle that he knew must be forth- 
coming. 

“ Wall,” with a skillful shift of the Virginia 
Twist, “it was like this: When I was a lad, an’ 
carryin’ a good spread o’ sail — a fearsome young- 
ster I was, Mr. Gadsden — I took aboard a cargo of 
hard cider. When I was about three sheets in the 
wind, I hove anchor, careless-like, in a corner of my 
ol’ man’s barnyard. While I was sleepin’ sweetly, 
a heifer bore upon my bows and began chawin’ on 
the straw hat I had forgot to take off. Before she 
got through she had a part of my larboard ear, un- 
beknownst to her an’ me, too I Now, are ye satis- 
fied?” 

Miles had scarcely finished laughing when Cap- 
tain Boyle called him to show him the watch lists and 
explain the details of his new duties as third lieuten- 
ant of the Chasseur, This work kept him busy until 
the cry, “ All hands, up anchor, ahoy ! ” summoned 
him to the deck. There he found his father and Mr. 
Dabney standing by the gangway, where a skiff swung 
at her painter, waiting to take the consul ashore 
297 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


again. Captain Boyle greeted Mr. Gadsden warmly, 
and after many hearty words and hand clasps, the 
consul left his friends just as the Chasseur^ s canvas 
began to catch the breeze. 

Miles waved his hand in a last farewell to his 
hospitable friend, and gave one final look at the two 
scorched masts of the General Armstrongs which still 
projected from the water. Then he hurried forward 
to attend to his duties as officer of the watch. 

The run from Fayal to American waters was 
accomplished smoothly and without incident. The 
wind held favorably on the Chasseur^ s quarter and 
no British sail was sighted. Miles was quick to learn 
the duties of his new position, and, having lost in his 
hard experience after parting from the Comet that 
bumptiousness that had counted against his success 
at first, he proved worthy of a berth with such fellow 
officers as Lusson and Gilmor. 

“ Miles,” said the latter one day, as they were 
looking forward to making a landfall off the capes 
within a few hours, “ it’s funny to see what a fret 
the old man is in. He’s got to send word to the own- 
ers in Baltimore and to the prize courts, too, on ac- 
count of the tremendous business we did on this last 
cruise; but he’s in a great sweat for fear peace will 
298 


FAMILIAR FACES 


be declared before he can put to sea again. If there 
ever was a man who loved fighting and adventure for 
its own sake, it’s our skipper.” 

“ He must have done very well financially,” ob- 
served Miles. 

“ Yes, that’s the joke of it. He’s cleared two 
hundred thousand dollars at least during this war, 
and he’d give it all up for one more fight such as we 
had off Pernambuco.” 

“ Well,” remarked the other, “ we are almost 
home now, and not a prize have we taken since leav- 
ing Fayal.” 

“What’s this I hear?” cried Gilmor in mock 
tragic tones, throwing up his hands in horror. 
“ Miles Gadsden descending to the dirty profits of 
privateering! Where is your ancient devotion to 
pure glory? ” 

“ If you allude to that speech again,” grinned 
Miles, “ I’ll give you a love tap with a handspike.” 

“ Ah, the old thirst for blood is there anyway! ” 
sighed his friend. “ By the way, now that I see I 
can refer to such matters without insulting you, the 
captain put your name on the books for a midship- 
man’s share of the prize money for that first Comet 
cruise, and you’ll find a tidy little sum drawing inter- 
est for you in a bank at Baltimore.” 

299 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


“ Really? Pm mighty glad to hear it,” cried 
Miles. “ That was good of the old man I You see, I 
don’t mind owning up that I’m on my lee scuppers, 
financially.” 

“ Sordid, very sordid spirit, Mr. Gadsden ! ” said 
Gilmor, wagging his head solemnly as he turned to 
respond to a call from the cabin ladder. 

Captain Boyle was clearly anxious, when, with his 
usual luck, he entered Chesapeake Bay without a 
glimpse of a blockading vessel and sped for Norfolk 
with every stitch of canvas spread. Hardly had he 
dropped anchor in the Elizabeth River, when he 
called away his gig and made for the city as fast as 
the oarsmen could ply their blades. Miles was officer 
of the deck at the time and he was surprised to see 
the gig rushing back to the ship in less than twenty 
minutes. 

“Any news, sir?” inquired Miles, saluting, as 
his captain jumped on deck with beaming face. 

“News? ’Tis no news that’s good news this 
time. Everybody is expecting to hear that the treaty 
of peace had been signed, but the word hasn’t come 
yet. I must depend on you, Gadsden, to work with 
us all in getting our cargo ashore to the warehouse 
to-day. The lighters are coming off now. Then 
we’re going off for more game, d’ye see? I s’pose 
300 


FAMILIAR FACES 


I can’t tempt you to stay with us for one more lick 
at the Britishers? ” 

“ No, sir,” replied Miles. “ You know my father’s 
health is badly broken down by his hard experiences, 
and we’ve had no word from the folks in Annapolis. 
I am sure that I shall be needed at home. You 
know that I’d like to strike another blow for sailors’ 
rights and the flag. Besides, I’ve a long personal 
score to settle yet.” 

“ Aye, aye, I understand. I shouldn’t have asked 
you. Miles,” answered Boyle affectionately. “ You’re 
needed at Annapolis with your father and in your 
home. As a matter of fact, the first ship we speak 
will probably tell us that the war is over, and there’s 
only a bare chance of another bit of fighting.” 

After doing his best to help Boyle all day to clear 
the ship of her rich cargo for immediate resailing. 
Miles, with his father, went ashore shortly after sun- 
down and took up temporary quarters at a tavern. 
He was so tired that he awoke late and reached the 
docks the following morning barely in time to halloo 
his good-by as the Chasseur spread her sails for one 
last cruise against the Mistress of the Sea. Then he 
made arrangements with the captain of a small packet 
sloop to take him and his father as passengers to An- 
napolis, 


301 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


During the first joyous weeks after the home com- 
ing, Miles was so contented and happy that nothing 
could tempt him to leave the house he loved. There, 
before the wide fireplace, with its blazing logs of oak 
and chestnut. Miles and his father sat with mother 
and sister, drawn up in a cozy semicircle before the 
roaring blaze during the long winter evenings and 
lived over again in memory the hard experiences 
of the war. The only drawback was the fact 
that his father was slow in recovering his health, 
which had been thoroughly broken down by his 
hardships. 

Soon came the news that the Senate had ratified 
the treaty of peace, and a few weeks later a fishing 
boat reported the Chasseur standing up the bay with 
a British sloop of war as a prize in her wake. 

“ I knew Boyle would get in another lick before 
peace was declared ! ” cried Miles on hearing the 
news. “ Now for Baltimore ! I must see those fel- 
lows again ! ” 

Miles had postponed going to Baltimore on busi- 
ness for his father, simply from an unwillingness to 
leave his comfortable home now that he had finally 
got back to it. But here was an incentive indeed. 
Accordingly, he was off on the next packet for Bal- 
timore. 


302 


FAMILIAR FACES 


It was no trouble to find the Chasseur, All Bal- 
timore was ringing with this final exploit of their fa- 
vorite vessel, and Miles was soon shaking hands and 
laughing and congratulating his old friends once 
more at the very pier where he had shipped over two 
years before on the Comet, As the war was over, 
however, all hands scattered as soon as the vessel’s 
cargo was unloaded and the prize money issued. Gil- 
mor promised to make Miles a visit within the month. 
Lusson suddenly disappeared, bound for France, and 
Miles, again feeling very lonesome, found himself 
sitting alone in his room at the old Three Tuns 
Tavern, where the details of his father’s affairs with 
the shipowners still kept him. He had had good 
news, for he learned that the rich vessel which his 
father’s sloop, the Eagle, had captured that unlucky 
day when Carringford appeared, had reached port in 
safety, so that a substantial account lay to Captain 
Gadsden’s credit. Moreover, Boyle had seen to it 
that Miles’s share of prize money was paid promptly. 
But the money end of the situation was not in Miles’s 
mind. Much as he loved his home, he had learned 
to love the sea, and to spend the rest of his days in 
Annapolis, managing the domestic accounts of his 
father’s overseer, or checking up ledger entries in the 
shipping house, was a dismal prospect. Gilmor, for 

303 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


instance, had been offered a fine command, one of the 
East India clippers, and would continue to feel the 
deck planking under his feet, to hear the roaring of 
foam under the bows, and see the blue expanse of 
ocean about him. An old office stool! Bah! And 
yet the best command Miles could get would prob- 
ably be one of the little freighters of Annapolis, which 
would be worse than staying in an office ashore. 

While he was reflecting in this vein Herk came 
in, bearing a large package. 

“ Hyar, Marse Miles, one ob de men from the 
Chasseur saw me on de street and gin me dis yere 
bun’le fo’ you.” 

“What is in it?” 

“ Dunno, Marse Miles, no mo’n you does.” 

“ By the way, Herk, youVe been a mighty good 
servant — ^best in the world — and stood by me in 
many a tight place. Now for the tenth time I 
want to remind you that you have your free- 
dom ” 

“ Look hyah, Marse Miles, what kin I do wid 
freedom? Ef I ain’t Marse Miles’s man, what is 
I? ” 

“ Well, Herk, it’s hard to tell where I’ll bump 
around. I hate to stay put in one place, you know. 
You might want to marry and settle down.” 

304 


FAMILIAR FACES 


“ Marry I Bless mah soul, Marse Miles, I don’ 
wan’ no woman blim-blammin’ roun’ me ” 

Miles burst out laughing at this and went to 
work to unwrap his package. To his great delight, 
he found in a leather case a brace of silver-mounted 
pistols with the inscription on the handle in flowing 
script : 

“ To my gallant friend. Miles Gadsden, from 
Thos. Boyle, in token of esteem.” 

A little wisp of paper was wound on one of the 
handles, which Miles read : 

‘‘ Don’t let that frog-eater Lusson make you think 
lightly of the pistol ! Learn to use it. Good luck to 
you. T. B.” 

Miles was delighted. The fact that Boyle — of 
whom he had always been at least a bit in awe — 
really liked him, pleased him more than the posses- 
sion of the handsome weapons. 

The following morning Miles was in his room, 
fondling his new pets while he was waiting for 
Herk to polish his boots, preparatory to a stroll to 
the water front, when he heard old Rudolf Van den 
Berg’s voice at the foot of the staircase. 

“ Lieutenant Gadsden ! Oh, lieutenant ! ” 

305 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


Miles smiled at the subtle flattery of the title and 
answered : 

“ Aye, mine host! 

“ A nigger iss here mit a letter for you and he 
says dot you should write der antswer of it alretty 1 ” 

“ Go down and get it, Herk, will you ? ” 

Herk, who was glossing his master’s boots with 
the air of a painter finishing a masterpiece, laid down 
his work carefully and went below. 

When he returned with the letter Miles did not 
recognize the handwriting. Breaking the seal, he 
read: 

“ To Miles Gadsden, Gent., late lieutenant of the 
privateer Chasseur, I'hree Tuns Tavern, Baltimore. 

“ Sir: The Mayor and Council of the City of Bal- 
timore request the honor of your presence at a dinner 
to be given on Thursday, May seventh, at Barney’s 
Inn, in honor of Captain Sam’l Chester Reid and his 
glorious defense of the General Armstrong in the 
harbor of Fayal, September 26, 1814. 

“ By order of his honor Edward Johnson, Esq., 

“ Mayor of Baltimore. 

“ City Hall, March 30, 1815.” 

“ This is the best news yet ! ” he cried. “ Herk,” 
he laughed, “ you can’t go to the banquet because you 
306 


FAMILIAR FACES 


were on the wrong side! Run and get me to-day’s 
Gazette; there ought to be some news about this din- 
ner! ” and Miles set himself to compose as elegant 
a note of acceptance as he could devise. By the time 
he had painstakingly copied it on the best paper the 
tavern could boast and signed it with three huge flour- 
ishes under his name, Herk came back with the week- 
ly news sheet. 

“ Here it is ! ” cried his master after a glance, 
and read aloud the account with gusto. Captain 
Reid and other privateer officers were to be there. 
But best of all, his good friend , Captain Joshua 
Barney, was to make the speech “ in honor of the 
distinguished guest.” 

Miles’s spirits went up like a balloon, and he 
could hardly wait for the week to roll around. 

At last the day, and better, the evening itself, ar- 
rived. Miles had arrayed himself in splendor worthy 
of the occasion, but as he wore civilian clothes, he 
felt that he did not present a very military sort of 
figure. He soon found that he had been invited only 
because he had been an officer under Boyle. But 
when Captain Reid saw him enter the hall, he im- 
mediately ran up to him, seized both his hands and 
pumped them violently. 

“ Mr. Mayor,” he cried, turning to the master 

307 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


of ceremonies, “ you were just now regretting that 
neither Lieutenants Worth nor Johnson could be here 
to-night. Mr. Gadsden, here, was my acting third 
lieutenant, if you please — a volunteer — and no 
man on the General Armstrong fought more gal- 
lantly! ” 

After that Miles suddenly found himself next to 
Captain Reid, the hero of the hour. A seat was hur- 
riedly made for him at the table of honor next to 
Mayor Johnson, and he was besieged with attention. 

“ Take it all in, my boy,” chuckled Miles to him- 
self; “next year this time you’ll be adding columns 
of figures for excitement ! ” 

Late in the progress of the dinner there was a 
stir at the door, and four stalwart negroes entered, 
carrying in a chair a large man dressed in the uni- 
form of a naval officer. Those sitting near the door 
instantly rose and cheered. Miles looked around and 
rose with the rest. Then he left his chair and hur- 
ried forward as fast as he could. It was Captain 
Barney; but Miles was only able to get in a few warm 
words of greeting at the time, for there was no op- 
portunity for more. 

Meanwhile, he learned from a fellow-diner the 
details of Captain Barney’s gallant attempts to repel 
the English on the Chesapeake and at Bladensburg 
308 


FAMILIAR FACES 


in which he had received the wounds that still dis- 
abled him. 

After being announced by the mayor in grandilo- 
quent terms, for Captain Barney was a Baltimore fa- 
vorite, the bluff veteran read his speech from his 
chair. As a naval officer and a former privateers- 
man, he said, he was well fitted to pay tribute to the 
work of the privateersmen in the war. He pointed 
out the fact that the reason England was anxious to 
gain peace was not because she had lost a few of her 
ships of war, but because the work of Yankee pri- 
vateers had been so devastating that the rates of in- 
surance in London were prohibitive and England’s 
commerce was going to pieces. Referring to the de- 
fense of the Armstrong in no stinted terms — he 
showed what was news to Miles — that the squadron 
under Lloyd at Fayal was a part of the proposed 
expedition against New Orleans, and the week’s delay 
arising from the tremendous slaughter of that battle 
made a corresponding delay in attacking New Or- 
leans. As General Jackson reached New Orleans just 
three days before Packenham, the gallant fight by 
Captain Reid made General Jackson’s great victory 
possible. 

At this there was tremendous cheering. 

“ In recognition of his brilliant exploit,” contin- 

309 


21 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


ued Barney, “ Congress has just awarded our guest 
the rank of captain in our navy. And, at the re- 
quest of the mayor and citizens of Baltimore, I am 
on this occasion to present to him this memorial 
sword.” 

Hereupon, amid great cheering. Captain Reid 
stepped forward and took from Barney’s hands the 
ornate gift of the city and stood bowing for nearly 
five minutes till the applause subsided. His thanks 
were brief and enlivened by the remark that this was 
“ the first time Barney had ever handed a sword to 
another.” 

“ One more announcement,” continued Captain 
Barney, and his eyes left the manuscript of his speech. 
“ In recognition of conspicuous gallantry in the pri- 
vateer service a commission of lieutenant has also 
been awarded to Mr. Miles Gadsden — my young 
friend here — who, as a volunteer, defended the fore- 
castle of the General Armstrong when every other 
, officer but Captain Reid was down, and who was re- 
cently described by Captain Boyle as “ as fine a fighter 
as ever smelt powder.” 

There was such applause at this that Miles him- 
self was compelled, after much nudging, to rise and 
bow his acknowledgments, blushing tremendously. 

“A lieutenantcy ! ” At first Miles hardly real- 
310 


FAMILIAR FACES 


ized what Captain Barney had said. Was it true the 
ambition of his life was realized, after all? 

Through the rest of the speeches Miles sat in a 
daze — hearing not a word of the patriotic eloquence 
that flowed on, as Miles thought, unendingly. As 
soon as the formal toasts were over Captain Barney 
excused himself on account of his physical condition 
and beckoned to Miles to follow. Together they es- 
tablished themselves in the captain’s room at the 
hotel where, as the veteran said, he could hear all 
about what Miles had done since they saw each other 
last. 

Miles knew perfectly well why he had got his 
commission, that it was due to Captain Barney’s per- 
sistent work in keeping his. young friend’s services 
before the Navy Department, for commissions do not 
come of their own accord. But when Miles, in his 
happiness, tried to tell how grateful he was. Captain 
Barney exclaimed with a fine pretense of impatience : 

“Tut, tut, will you never keep still about that? 
Not another word ! What I want to hear about first 
is that Pernambuco affair. Now, begin at the be- 
ginning and don’t stop till I order you ! ” 

The bluff commodore lighted a long clay pipe and 
“ cleared ship for action,” as he said, by throwing off 
his gold-laced coat and sword and stretching out on 

311 


THE YOUNG PRIVATEERSMAN 


the lounge where he could listen in comfort. Miles 
tipped his chair against the wall and mingled his tale 
of adventures with so many dreams of life on the 
deck of “ Old Ironsides,” with an epaulet on his 
shoulder, that his listener had frequently to call him 
to time. From the dining room below the tinkling 
of glasses and the hum of conversation were suddenly 
interrupted by the strains of a new song, “ The Star- 
Spangled Banner,” which Miles heard then for the 
first time. 

“ Let me hear that! ” he exclaimed, and went to 
the open window. As he listened to the stirring lines 
he felt, over and above his happiness in attaining 
the ambition of his boyhood, the deep responsibility 
that such a position brought. In peace as well as in 
war, as a naval officer he was bound to represent the 
honor of that “ star-spangled banner,” and deep in 
his heart Miles vowed that he would never be un- 
worthy of his trust. 


THE END 


( 1 ) 



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